Harry & the Pirate I
by geekmama
Summary: Jack gets far more adventure than he bargained for when he sets out with Elizabeth and Will to save the Governor's sister, the fascinating Dowager Duchess of Wyndham, from Worse Than Death!
1. Spanish Gold

Disclaimer: Disney's

**Chapter 1: _Spanish Gold_**

****

There was no moon. That's the way Jack liked it. Less killing that way. He smiled, gold teeth glinting among the white in the dim starlight, as he looked at the neat little town spread out along the bay before him: Santo Cristobal on the island of Hispañola. Like picking a nice ripe apple off a tree.

The _Black Pearl_, freshly refitted since Jack had reclaimed her six months before, had waylaid a few fat merchant vessels since setting sail again -- two Spanish, one French, no English: Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't afraid of Commodore James Norrington of His Majesty's Royal Navy, but saw no reason to unnecessarily antagonize him, either. Santo Cristobal would be the first town the _Pearl_ would sack since the refit, and Jack had no qualms about it at all. The mayor of the town, one Don Carlos Nuñez y Silva, was widely known to be a tyrant, indulging in both physical and monetary abuse of his townsfolk when the notion took him. Rumor had it the notion took him quite frequently.

"Montez and Wilkes say the gold's hidden away in the mayor's house," commented Gibbs, close beside Jack, who was at the helm, guiding the _Pearl_ silently into the harbor on the fresh night breeze. Montez and Wilkes were two of the newer crew members, and had actually lived in Santo Christobal not so long since. "Hidden bein' the operative word, ye might say", Gibbs went on. "What if we can't find it afore the garrison comes from Dos Caballos? We'll only 'ave a few hours."

"Won't need to find it. The mayor will tell us where it is," said Jack.

"Aye? And how do ye plan on makin' 'im?"

"Oh, I daresay something will occur to me," Jack drawled. He smiled again, wolfishly, his eyes alight with mischief.

"I daresay," agreed Gibbs, wryly, smiling too. He'd seen Jack in this mood many a time, and knew the raid would go off well. Jack had just the right balance of devil-may-care (_madness_, some would call it) and level-headedness needed to orchestrate these little enterprises. With a good crew behind him there'd be no stopping him this night. And the crew _was_ good. It had expanded to more than double the number they'd had against Barbossa, and every one worth his salt, as the saying went – Jack was more circumspect about who he took on these days, which was an excellent thing altogether. Barbossa's betrayal and Jack's subsequent exile from his beloved ship had been a hard lesson, but had been well learned. The Captain wouldn't risk losing the _Black Pearl_ again.

o-o-o

Two hours later the town was all but taken. They had dropped anchor and had gone ashore in the longboats, bristling with weapons and warily quiet. Jack had been in the lead boat, on the watch for any sign that they'd been spotted, but the town slept peacefully. This somnolence had included the harbor sentry, a young fellow they'd found snoring at his post, a half-empty bottle beside him. Jack had him gagged and bound securely—no sense using him too harshly: he'd be in trouble enough when his superiors found him later—and they had entered the town unmolested. Then Jack gave the order, and all hell broke loose.

Fairly organized hell, of course. There was a spirited attempt at resistance from some of the townsfolk, mostly the few that seemed more well-to-do, and there had been a small compliment of soldiers with whom they'd had to contend. But the element of surprise had worked in their favor: there had been some injuries on both sides, but no deaths, and the defenders had rapidly found themselves trussed up and stashed in the stable of the inn at one end of the town square. The last one to be subdued was the soldiers' Commandant, with whom Jack had had an interesting bit of swordplay. The soldier was a big man, topping Jack's height by several inches, and was not a bad swordsman, but neither a very good. However, it seemed to be a matter of pride with the fellow to take on Jack, as the leader of the miscreants who were making a shambles of the town. As the mayhem in the town was beginning to wind down, Jack had wanted to simply have him tied up and thrown into the stable with his friends, but the man had managed to throw off the fellows assigned to this task and, grabbing up a sword from the pile of confiscated weapons close at hand, attacked Jack with gusto. Jack, countering the attack with an ease born of long experience, played with him a bit and soon realized the soldier stood no chance of winning on two counts: faulty technique, and uncontrolled wrath. Jack resigned himself to the task at hand, and a number of the crew and cowering townsfolk were treated to an energetic display of the art. Finally, after the soldier managed to put a rent in the pirate's coat sleeve, Jack ended it, disarming him and putting a deep cut in the man's sword arm that would incapacitate him for the near future.

In all this time, the mayor had not made an appearance. His house, however, was right on the town square. "Come on, lads," Jack said to Montez, Wilkes, Gibbs and O'Brien. "We'll pay the mayor a little visit."

They entered cautiously, through a window as the door was barred, and, after a rather lengthy search that uncovered a knot of frightened but unresisting retainers in the cellar (whom Jack locked in by the simple expedient of a broom handle through the twin door pulls), found the mayor and his wife hiding under the bed in their room on the second floor. The Señora shrieked like "a right banshee" (noted Gibbs) as the men dragged her rather portly, balding husband out and bound his wrists behind him. The man babbled at Jack in frantic Spanish.

Jack, fluent in Spanish but unwilling to let the Mayor know this just out of general principle, ignored the man's protests and turned to Montez. "Tell him I want to know where he's stashed the gold, and I want it now or there'll be hell to pay."

Montez related this to the mayor, who got a stubborn look on his face, although there was also fear behind his eyes. His wife, still under the bed, grew more hysterical. Wilkes, swearing, moved to drag her out, but Jack said, "Leave her! We'll take this fine fellow out to the square. I've an idea."

The idea involved the town well, a convenient feature of the square which Jack had noted when they'd first arrived.

"Cut the bucket off that rope and tie Señor Mayor to the line. We'll see if a little swim loosens his tongue," said Jack, giving the trembling man his most callously vicious look. "And bring a few of those swells from the stables to watch."

These orders were swiftly carried out, under the amused gaze of many of the pirates and the horrified ones of some of the poorer townsfolk who had gathered at one side of the square, having been unmolested by the raiders for the most part. The mayor gobbled in fear as he was pushed into the well and dangled above the water. "Lower away, lads!" ordered Jack, grinning evilly. The mayor's protests echoed back up the well until there was sudden silence as the water rose above his nose. Jack listened to the frantic splashing for about half a minute, then had him hauled up again. The mayor coughed and sputtered, and was already nearly weeping with fear. He fixed pleading eyes on Jack, who gave him back a half-mad, contemptuous glare and demanded in a voice of doom, "Where be the gold?"

A shrill voice came from above—the mayor's wife, in her white nightdress and cap, leaned out the bedroom window and shrieked, "Don't tell him, Carlos! Be brave, my love!"

Jack took out his pistol, casually took aim and pulled the trigger. The flowerpot on the window ledge beside the lady exploded. She screamed and pulled her head in, slamming the shutters.

The mayor, pale and dripping, muttered a prayer. "Lower away!" Jack ordered again.

o-o-o

It took only two more dunkings before the Mayor gave up the required information between fits of gasping and coughing. Jack and Gibbs took a small party of men into the house to fetch the gold. The location turned out to be a secret space under the library, the panel door of which had been cleverly designed to resemble the surrounding floorboards and was in addition covered with a beautiful little Turkey carpet. "Nice taste Señor Mayor has!" Jack commented. And he was even more pleased with the fortune they discovered beneath it. Jack's eyes lit up when he saw the bags of coins, eight of them, each holding a hundred coins apiece according to the marks on the bags. There was a little strongbox as well, full of miscellaneous coins and bills. A decorative but sturdy chest lay to one side of the room and Jack had the men discard the blankets that were stored in it and load in the bags of gold. Latching it shut, Jack said, "Connelly, Martin: you two can do the honors. Gibbs, bring the carpet along. I've taken a fancy to it."

"Sure, it'll remind ye of a pleasant evening whene'er ye see it," said Gibbs, sentimentally.

"That it will," Jack agreed. He picked up the strongbox and tucked it under his arm. "Let's go, lads. Our work here is done."

Outside, the rest of his crew had assembled the additional booty to be transported back to the _Black Pearl_. Jack looked it all over, briefly, then happened to glance at the group of poorer townsfolk who were still lingering at the edge of the square. Most of them were clad in clothing that seemed little better than rags. He frowned, and an idea occurred to him. "Montez, Wilkes! Go back up to the Señora's room and take her clothing, all of it you can find. Mind you don't harm the lady--you can tie her up, if she objects--but gently, see? And be quick about it. We'll start hauling everything to the boats."

Jack watched Gibbs scurry about, ordering the withdrawal. As the last of the crew left the square, Montez and Wilkes reappeared, hauling between them an enormous trunk.

"Lord, you should see the stuff, Captain!" Wilkes exclaimed. "Can't imagine she's worn the half of it, in this out o' the way spot."

Jack chuckled. "P'raps one of her friends here can be persuaded to lend her a dress--though somehow I doubt it! Get along with the others now, lads."

The two hurried to catch up with the rest of the crew, who were well down the path to the harbor already. Jack took a last look around as he followed, making sure all was still secure in the square, and saw again the sad, ragged group of poor folk watching him. He slowed, and then stopped in the shadow of the last building, debating. Finally he picked out one of the group, a middle-aged solemn-looking scarecrow of a fellow, who nevertheless seemed as though he could be the leader. Jack waved him over. The man hesitated a moment, but then straightened and came to Jack, most dignified in spite of sartorial exigencies.

"Señor?"

"This is for your people," Jack said, in Spanish, and handed him the strongbox.

The man took it, utterly surprised. He looked at Jack for a long moment, then said simply, "Gracias, Capitán."

Jack nodded, then turned and strode from the square, following his men.


	2. Owens

**Chapter 2: _Michael Owens_**

The men were loading the swag into the boats by the light of torches when Jack reached the beach.

Gibbs came up to him. "Like shootin' fish in a barrel," his first mate said with satisfaction. "Where's the strongbox?"

"Gave it to charity," said Jack briefly.

"Charity! Those pitiful folk in the square, ye mean?" Gibbs shook his head. "Yer too soft-hearted, lad. There was close to a hundred in that box!"

Jack shrugged. "Little enough shared between them. We've got the bulk of it."

"Turnin' into a bleedin' Robin Hood," chuckled the first mate.

"Stow it!" Jack told him, smiling slightly.

"Captain!" came a small voice behind them.

Both men whipped around, hands going to knife hilts. But it was only a boy, a skinny lad with black hair and enormous dark eyes shining out of a pale, fine-featured face.

"What are you doing here, boy?" said Jack, severely. "Get back to your mother!"

"She's passed on, sir," the boy said, scared but determined. "I…I want to go with you!"

Jack looked him over, surprised. The boy was dressed quite finely, although the clothes were in desperate need of washing, and hung too loosely on the thin body. Jack said, "We don't take on babes," but then added, his eyes narrowing, "You speak English."

"Me mum an' da' were Irish. They…they died in the sickness, last year. Please Captain! Take me along. I can work hard, and I learn quick. I could be your Cabin Boy!"

"Cabin Boy! On a pirate ship?" laughed Gibbs.

But Jack didn't laugh. He reached out and took the boy's chin in his fingers, turning the intent little face to the side. A faded bruise was visible, from the boy's right cheek to his temple. He said, "Your folks are dead? Who's been lookin' after you then?"

"No one. I mean," the boy added, seeing Jack's skeptical look, "I work for my bread, sir. I have no family."

Jack considered him thoughtfully for a long minute, then turned to Gibbs. "What do you think? Can we use another hand?"

Gibbs gave his Captain a quizzical look, but then said, looking at the boy, "He _is_ Irish. That's a point in his favor."

Jack smiled at that. "Aye. What's your name, lad?"

"Michael Owens, sir."

"All right, Owens. You can come along. Let's see how hard you can work helpin' to load the longboats."

"Yes sir! Thank you sir!"

o-o-o

Cotton was at the helm, and Jack was in the hold supervising the disposal of the newly acquired cargo when Gibbs came to him, a grim look on his face. "There's somethin' you should see, Cap'n. It's the boy."

Although not a stickler for cleanliness, Jack had ultimately found Owens' person more pungent even than he could tolerate and had set Gibbs to remedying the situation. Gibbs had complied to the extent of having the Pearl's cook heat a big cauldron of water for the washing of both clothing and boy. Owens had submitted to the latter with some reluctance, and the reason for this was presently made evident to Gibbs.

"He's been beaten something terrible," said Gibbs quietly as made their way to where he'd left the boy, in the otherwise deserted fo'c'sle. "And his foot's got a cut that's gone septic."

Owens, standing in a corner by the cauldron of now filthy water, looked up as they approached, his dark eyes apprehensive. Gibbs had lent the boy one of his own linen shirts to wear until the worn clothing was dry, and it hung on the thin frame like an enormous nightshirt, falling nearly to his ankles, the sleeves rolled up to his bony wrists. Jack observed that he was clean, but that was the best that could be said about him: he looked younger now than he had in the starlight on the beach, and was altogether a pitiful specimen.

"Turn around, lad," Gibbs said to the boy in a gruff voice. Owens reluctantly obeyed, standing stiffly as Gibbs lifted the shirt up to reveal the bruised body. Recent welts were layered over older, more faded evidence of abuse, mostly on the skinny buttocks but extending to the lower back and down his thighs as well. Gibbs, observing the appropriately shocked look in Jack's eyes, let the shirt drop again, and turned the boy to face the Captain.

"Who did this, Owens?" Jack asked, his voice cold.

Owens, misinterpreting the coldness and the stony expression, stammered, "P-please sir, I…it was the Señora…the mayor's wife…I worked in her house, and she…well, she was not always…but, indeed I tried. I promise I will work hard, and follow orders, sir."

Jack, wishing he had blown a hole through the lady's head instead of her flowerpot, said, "I'm sure you will, Owens. Let's see the foot." Jack and Gibbs had both noticed that the lad limped when he was helping with the longboats. Now Owens hesitantly held out his right foot, turning it so that the long ugly wound was visible along the outside.

"It'll need to be cleaned and dressed", said Gibbs to Jack. "Can you hold 'im while I do it?"

"Aye," said Jack. He sat down on the bench by the bulkhead and motioned to the boy. "Come over here, lad."

The boy came, but said earnestly, "I don't need to be held, sir. I can bear it."

"No one's questioning your courage, lad, but Mr. Gibbs is in charge of this." Jack drew the boy onto his lap. "Sorry I don't make a softer seat for you," he added, noting the tightening of the boy's mouth.

"It's no matter, sir," said Owens. The boy sat stiffly, barely breathing, determined to be stoic, but was glad of Jack's hands squeezing his as Gibbs carried out his work.

"I was thinkin', Captain," Gibbs said, conversationally, "that there's the Widow McGee back on Tortuga that could use another hand to do odd jobs and such about the tavern. A bit easier on a little lad than the life of a Cabin Boy, and the Widow's as kind a woman as ever lived."

"Aye, that's true," Jack agreed, considering this idea "She'd have him fattened up in no time. Best cook in the town."

"No!" Owens gasped in pain, but felt compelled to speak. "Captain, please! Please I…I don't want to be left behind!"

"Rest you, lad, we'll speak of it later," soothed Jack. He watched Gibbs pick up a bottle and tightened his hold on the boy.

"This'll hurt some, Owens," said Gibbs and, gripping the boy's ankle tightly, poured straight rum over the freshly cleaned wound. Owens gave an involuntary cry, his body jerking against the restraining hands, then burst into tears. "There now, nearly done," the first mate said in a cheerful voice. "Won't need to stitch it—should heal fine if it's wrapped for a few days."

It was evident that Owens was quite done up with pain and exhaustion. Jack let the boy sob into his coat, absently patting the bony back and wondering, not for the first time, at the cruelty so often exhibited by the upper classes, in spite of having every privilege, every luxury to hand. He watched Gibbs finish binding the boy's foot.

"All done," said Gibbs. "I'll have one of the men clean this up, Captain. Where do ye want him to stay?"

"I'll put him in Anamaria's cabin in a bit. Will you go see to the cargo, Gibbs?"

"Aye, Captain."

Jack leaned back against the bulkhead, patiently waiting for the end of the storm. Owens struggled for control, and finally achieved it, sitting up and rubbing tears off his cheek with the heel of his hand.

"Here, lad," Jack said, pulling a lace-edged handkerchief from one of his capacious pockets. The boy took it hesitantly, carefully wiped the remaining tears away and blew his nose, then offered it back. Jack eyed the crumpled wad with some distaste and said, "No. No, you can keep it."

"It's such a fine one," Owens said, fingering the lace. "Are you sure?"

"There's plenty more where that came from. Did you not see the letters sewn into it? They ain't 'JS'—the thing's stolen." Owens met the pirate's eyes for a long silent moment. Then Jack went on: "That's our business, lad, or some of it anyway, and there's worse things that go along with it—fightin', even killin' sometimes."

Owens thought about this. "I know that, sir. But I saw you give Muñoz the strongbox, too."

Jack laughed shortly. "We're not always that generous—the haul was a good one and we kept the bulk of it. It's bein' stowed as we speak"

"That money will help them so much—it's hard on Hispañola."

"As it is in most places. But a pirate's life can be hard, and maybe short, too."

Owens saw where Jack was heading with this talk and said, suddenly fierce: "Don't leave me with the Widow, sir! Please!"

"She's a fine woman, and has children of her own, too: a couple of boys a bit younger than you, and a pretty little lass. And she makes the best scones you've ever tasted in your life," Jack told him, trying to make this sound like a tempting alternative to working as the Pearl's Cabin Boy.

Owens would have none of it. "I d-don't care. Please say I can stay, sir! Please?"

Jack sighed. "I'll make no promises, Owens. We won't arrive at Tortuga for a fortnight and I'll make the decision then. And you can think over what I've been tellin' you. Come now." Jack stood up, lifting the boy in his arms, far too easily—he'd make sure Cook fed the lad up. "You'll stay in Anamaria's cabin until you're healed a bit."

The boy had observed the pirate girl's sharp tongue and way with a knife during the raid and asked uncertainly, "Do you…think she'll mind?"

"No. Anamaria's bark is worse than her bite," Jack laughed. "Most of the time."


	3. Port Royal

**Chapter 3: _Port Royal_**

Five days had passed, perfect days of sun and wind, and Jamaica had been sighted early that morning, a smudge on the horizon. It was increasingly sultry, and the wind had fallen a bit: it would take them a good while yet to make land, and even then Captain Sparrow intended to set the _Pearl's_ anchor in a cove well around the point from Port Royal. He knew that Norrington and the _Dauntless_ were supposed to be some way distant from Jamaica at the moment, but there was no use toying with the contingent left at Fort Charles: the Commodore had undoubtedly left a man or two capable of loading and firing a cannon.

"We'll lay up long enough to do a bit more work on the _Pearl_," Jack said to Gibbs. They were strolling the deck, inspecting the ship with sharp eyes as they went. After a fast and furtive return to the Isle de Muerta to obtain adequate swag to fund the project, the second thing Jack had done on resuming command of his beloved ship was to sail to Puerta Mujeres, a small harbor not far from Tortuga. They had stayed there for several weeks, out of Norrington's way, careening, repairing, and refitting the vessel. The cost had been minimal compared to the expenditure of time and effort involved, for the ship was in sad condition after ten years under the late, unlamented Barbossa, and the whole crew had been glad when Jack deemed the ship ready to set sail once more. There were still areas of concern to Jack, however, particularly some refinishing of rails and portions of the deck.

"I'll set the men to work as soon as we've dropped anchor," said Gibbs. "Will you be goin' to Port Royal tonight?"

"Aye. I'll bring Will back with me. He can bring that donkey of his to carry the gold."

"Two hundred gold pieces! 'Tis a suitable wedding gift for Bootstrap's boy, though. It'll set him up in fine style."

"True enough," said Jack. "He'll be able to buy out Brown, or even set up on his own…"

A startled "Whoa!" sounded from overhead, and a small, gangly figure dropped from above, thudding to the deck nearly at their feet.

"Bloody hell!" Jack exclaimed. It was Owens. The boy scrambled to his feet, to both men's relief, and started to turn to scamper off but Jack barked, "Owens! Stand down!"

The boy froze, then turned to face his irate mentor, standing straight and stiff, his eyes fixed on Jack's chest.

"God's teeth, boy, didn't I tell you to stay off the ratlines until that foot's healed?" Jack growled.

The boy swallowed hard and said in a small voice, "Aye, sir."

"Then what in blazes do you mean by it, eh?"

"I…my foot's much better, sir, truly. And…I wanted to see the island. I've never been to another island before." Owens waited for the Captain to say something, but the silence went on so long that the boy finally peeked up at his face briefly and stammered, "I'm s-sorry, sir."

Jack, secretly pleased that Owens still had enough spirit left in him to flout an order, also knew he must assign some penalty for doing so. He said, making his voice grim, "I reckon you are sorry lad, and you'll be sorrier yet! Do you think I give orders for me own pleasure?"

Owens, growing rather pale, shook his head.

"The lives of a ship's crew can depend on followin' the captain's orders."

"Aye, sir," Owens whispered, his eyes dropping to Jack's boots.

"Now, since you seem to be well enough to disobey my orders I think it's safe to say you're well enough to do some work. Eh, Gibbs?"

"Idle hands're the devil's plaything, sir," agreed the first mate, sagely.

"Precisely. Owens, I've a fancy to have the poop deck refinished. Gibbs, set this young varmint up scrapin' the paint off."

"Aye, sir. Come along, Owens," said Gibbs, hiding a smile. The poop deck was the best place topside from which to sight land, without climbing aloft.

Owens realized this too. The boy looked up at Jack, his eyes shining, and stammered. "Th-thank you, Captain!"

"You can thank me tonight, when your hands are all blistered. Just see that you do a proper job of it," Jack growled menacingly.

"Aye, sir!" said Owens, saluting, very straight.

Jack didn't let himself smile until the boy had turned and walked away with Gibbs.

o-o-o

It was only three miles from Fuller's Cove to Port Royal. Jack left just after dusk and made his way through the forested hills, following the well-used path. It was full dark by the time he reached the outskirts of the town and, although there was still some early evening activity, he was able to avoid notice quite easily, in spite of his singular appearance, moving through the shadows quiet as a cat.

Brown's Smithy was deserted. The doors were still unlocked though, and Jack entered cautiously. The place looked exactly the same as it had the first time he'd met Will, right down to the donkey harnessed to the contraption that fanned the forge. The donkey apparently remembered Jack, too, for the creature gave a bray of distress and shuffled nervously when it caught his scent. Jack grinned. He stood just inside the door for a moment, recalling the sword fight he'd had with Will—a really memorable one, that: they'd used every inch of the place, including the rafters. Will was a marvelous swordsman, which was understandable if he'd practiced three hours a day as he'd claimed—bloody unnatural! Still, Jack had to admit the boy would've bested him that time, if Jack hadn't "cheated". Cheated! As though it was cheating to save your life, by whatever means lay at hand. Rubbish!

Well, the lad wasn't here now, that much was certain. Jack thought he knew where Will might be though: with Elizabeth Swann. The thought of presenting himself at the Governor's house didn't hold much appeal, but he needed to find Will, and even if the lad wasn't actually at the house Elizabeth would likely know his whereabouts.

The Governor's house was up in the hills overlooking the town. Jack had never been there, of course, but he could hardly have missed it as it was by far the largest and most elegant residence in the town, and visible from the harbor. The gates were open and unguarded, somewhat to his surprise, and as he slipped past them and walked up the curved drive he could see that repairs of the ravages of Barbossa's attack were still being affected, as had been the case in the rest of the town. No watch appeared to have been set near the house either, but he could see light shining from the ground floor windows, and faint voices could even be heard. As Jack straightened his hat, smoothed his moustache a bit, and approached the steps to the door the voices grew more distinct, and he recognized two of them as he drew near the house: Elizabeth and Will! There was a third voice, feminine, French, and very frantic. In fact there was a note of distress in the voices of his friends, as well. Frowning, he hesitated, but he had not heard the governor's voice. He shrugged, walked quietly up the steps and knocked firmly on the door.

An ancient and very proper retainer opened it. He stared at Jack, his disapproval rapidly changing to terror as he realized what the profession of the visitor must be: _Pirate!_

"M-m-m-my lord!" he stuttered, trying to call the Governor. But his voice was far too constricted to carry to the drawing room.

"Is my lord here, then?" Jack asked, eyebrows raised, looking into the foyer warily. He started to move backwards, thinking it might just be better to try to contact Will on the morrow. But then a familiar voice sounded: "Beck, who is it? We are not at home to visitors!" and Elizabeth Swann came into view. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered. He stopped where he was and a smile lit his face.

Beck turned to the girl. "Miss Elizabeth, do not come closer! It's a—a—_Pirate!_"

This information was hardly calculated to discourage Miss Swann, pirate aficionado. She came swiftly forward and looked over Beck's shoulder, and saw Jack smiling at her in the faint moonlight. "Jack!" she gasped. She shoved past Beck, and ran toward the pirate. "Oh Jack!" she cried happily, and threw her arms around him.

He caught her, laughing, and said, "It's good to see you too, love!", somewhat surprised at this effusive greeting.

She laughed too, and ended the hug, but gripped his arms and held him there before her. "I can't believe it! You are the very man we need! Come in!" She released his arms, grabbed his hand and pulled him along after her into the house, past the horrified Beck. "Will! Father! Look who's come!" she called excitedly as they crossed the foyer.


	4. Wedding Gift

**Chapter 4: _Wedding Gift_**

_Father! Oh, lord_, Jack thought. And then they were entering the drawing room and Governor Swann was rising from the sofa, a look of shocked disapproval on his face. Will, on the other hand, was coming toward him, amazed and obviously delighted.

Elizabeth let him go and Jack gripped Will's outstretched hand. "Jack!" exclaimed Will. "My God, you are opportune! How on earth…?"

"I came to give you a wedding gift, mate," Jack said, alert and more than a little puzzled. What the devil was all this?

"A wedding gift!" Will and Elizabeth said together, looking at each other and laughing.

Jack stared at the couple, wondering if perhaps love had rendered them both one card short of a deck.

The governor finally found his voice. "Elizabeth! I must protest! This man is a pirate, a wanted criminal! How can you invite him into our house like an old friend?"

"Father, he _is_ an old friend!" Elizabeth said firmly. "And he's the very man we need! He can get Auntie for us!"

"Auntie?" Jack inquired, quite on his guard now. There was something odd going on here and no mistake, and Jack wasn't at all sure he wanted to get involved.

"Yes," said Elizabeth, "My aunt, Lady Henrietta Fanshawe, the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham. But come, sit down. Beck! Bring refreshments—some claret for the men and lemonade for me if you please. Or would you prefer something else, Jack?"

She'd pressed Jack into a nearby chair, upholstered in a most gorgeous brocade. The unusally elegant surroundings, accompanied by the Governor's indignant glare, had thrown him off his stride, somewhat. "Got any rum?" he asked, hopefully.

Elizabeth chuckled, and turned to the butler. "Beck, bring Captain Sparrow rum if we have any. Quickly now!" she added when the man continued gawking from the doorway a moment too long for her liking.

"And don't tell anyone he's here!" Will added, a warning in his voice.

Beck looked from the pirate to Will to the governor, and stuttered, "N-no, sir. Yes…Miss Elizabeth!" and hurried off.

Governor Swann said, exasperated, "Of course he's going to tell the others! Can't expect him to keep the news we're entertaining a pirate behind his teeth!"

"Well, it can't signify," said Elizabeth. "The Commodore is at sea."

"Yes, but he hasn't left us completely unguarded!" said her father.

"That's right, Elizabeth," said Will. "We'd best explain the situation quickly."

"Just what I was thinkin' meself, mate," said Jack. "Not that I don't appreciate the kind welcome, but I wasn't plannin' on lingering in the town. Bad for me health, an' all."

"All right, then," said Elizabeth. "Jeanette here…" She looked around, nonplussed for a moment, then spotted Jeanette hovering nervously in a far corner of the room. "Jeanette! Come here! Captain Sparrow is a friend!"

Jeanette, a lady's maid by her dress, expostulated in rapid French, indicating that she wanted no part of the prospective dialogue with this pirate, that she had had enough of pirates to last her a lifetime, and that her only desire was to return to England, with or without milady Henrietta.

It took considerable coaxing on Elizabeth's part, but she at last prevailed upon the maid to have a seat some distance from Jack. Jeanette perched on the edge of the chair, her nervous eye fixed on him. He was sorely tempted to shout, "Boo!" at her, just to see how high she'd jump, but managed to resist the urge.

"That's better!" said Elizabeth, briskly. "Now, Jack, Jeanette is my aunt's maid. She was accompanying Auntie from England aboard the _Nightingale_ to attend our wedding, and to look over St. Claire island—the Fanshawe's have owned it forever, and have a rich plantation there. Four days ago the ship was attacked by pirates—the _Rubicon_, captained by Robert Montlief—and they took my aunt, along with a great deal of the cargo. Jeanette tells us the pirates plan to take my aunt and have her sold at a Bride's Auction on Tortuga! Do you know of any such institution?"

"Aye, I do," Jack admitted. "It's held every month or so. Bit of a moneymaker, that. But a dowager duchess…seems as though they'd want to hold her for ransom instead—make even more that way."

"They don't know who she is, only that she's a lady. At least, the captain of the _Nightingale_ is fairly sure of that for he heard her tell Montlief that she was Miss Henrietta Fanshawe. The auction's on the fifteenth is it not?"

"Aye, it is."

"Then we don't have much time! Jack, could you take us there, and help us get her back?"

Jack stared at her, and then at Will, and then particularly at the Governor. "What, take the three of you to Tortuga?"

"Not all of us," Elizabeth said, a little impatiently. "Only Will and I."

"What!" exclaimed her father.

"You'll need me to identify her, of course. I can wear a disguise—some of Anamaria's clothing!" Elizabeth went on, ignoring her father's protest, the plan forming in her mind as she spoke. "Will has already been seen there with you and is known to be your friend. And you can go to the auction and buy her! They will never even know her for what she is. It's perfect!"

"Perfect!" Jack exclaimed. "They'd think I'd gone mad! At the least it'd look devilish suspicious."

"But why? You can tell them you need a new cook, or a seamstress or...or _something!_ There can be no difficulty."

"You don't go there to buy a cook—it's a _Bride's_ Auction, savvy?"

"Well, she's quite pretty, or was the last time I saw her. Just tell them you 'took a notion' if they ask. You've done it before, haven't you?"

"'Taken a notion', or bought a 'bride'?" Jack said sarcastically. Then he admitted, "Aye, well, I've bought maybe one or two over the years." Elizabeth and Will nodded, but the Governor looked rather shocked. "Let 'em go, of course," Jack assured him, then spoiled the effect of this by adding with a reminiscent and somewhat lecherous smile, "Afterwards."

"Please Jack!" said Elizabeth. "Say you'll do it!"

"You said you were here to give us a wedding gift," Will pointed out. "There could hardly be a better one."

"It wasn't quite what I had in mind, though." Jack sighed, looking at the three. "I suppose I'll have to help you. But your girl's right, Governor: you can't go yourself. Fellows'd know for certain they could get a king's…er…dowager duchess's ransom for her."

"How much do you think it will cost me?" Swann asked, looking a bit worried. "I don't have a great deal of coin on hand at the moment."

"You don't eh? Well, the cost depends on a lot of things—could be as low as fifty, or upwards of several hundred. We'd best bring about five hundred in gold to be on the safe side. I've never seen one go that high but, if we're going to do this at all, we don't want to take the chance of losing her."

"Five hundred! I don't have an amount near that in the house, or even in town! It would take several days to gather such an amount!"

"We don't have the time! What can we do?" Elizabeth fretted.

Jack swore under his breath. "I have the coin," he said finally. "You can pay me back."

"You have that much money? And where did you get such a fortune?" the Governor demanded.

"We sacked Santo Cristobal five days ago," Jack replied, bluntly. "Of course if you're worried about using stolen money to get the lady back…"

"No, no!" exclaimed the Governor quickly, "_Spanish_ gold is it? Quite right!" A pained look crossed his face. "Five hundred, though! God's life! It's criminal. She's done it to me again, after all these years. Wild to a fault! One would have thought that marriage to Wyndham would have given her some sense of propriety. But she saw him planted after two years, thus freeing her from any sort of constraint. She's worse than ever! Do you know she would not have been caught by these pirates had she hidden as the captain bid her? But no, she insisted on observing the proceedings and what is the result? Captured by ruffians who'd undoubtedly stop at nothing! Facing _Worse Than Death_!"

"Oh no!" Jack soothed, a little amused at these unguarded comments. "They wouldn't, not if they're planning on auctioning her—especially if she told 'em she's a Miss. A virgin fetches more, y'see, no matter her age." He saw Elizabeth's slightly shocked look, which she immediately stifled, although her telltale blush could not be hidden. Jack cocked a teasing eyebrow at her and said: "Wanted to watch Montlief's men at work, eh? Seems as though an interest in pirates runs in the family. I'd wondered how it was they'd got the lady and left the maid."

"Yes. Well, now you know," said Governor Swann, a little huffily. He turned to his daughter. "Elizabeth, I don't feel it would be at all suitable for you to accompany them. Will and…er…Captain Sparrow can very well take care of rescuing my sister. Jeanette can go along to identify her and attend to her needs on the voyage home."

But Jeanette, able to understand more English than she could speak, would have none of this, bursting into a Gallic tirade that left the rest of the company under no illusions as to her sentiments regarding a protracted voyage in the company of pirates.

"You see, father?" said Elizabeth, a note of triumph in her voice. "We can hardly force her to go! And I shall be perfectly safe. Aunt Harry will be with me on the voyage home, and Anamaria will be an excellent duenna until then."

"Anamaria! A pirate wench!"

"Elizabeth is right, sir," Will said in his confident manner. "I assure you Elizabeth will be quite safe with her aboard the _Black Pearl_. She won't take nonsense from anyone. The first time I met Anamaria she slapped Jack's face! "

The Governor looked at Jack, one eyebrow raised. "She did, did she? And why was that, Captain Sparrow?"

Jack gave Will a somewhat venomous look, but replied, "Well, I'd had need of a boat, and Anamaria's happened to be the one I'd chosen to…borrow. It was the one I sailed into Port Royal the last time I visited your fair community. Voluntarily, that is."

The Governor looked puzzled for a moment, then his brows twitched together. "Do you mean the single masted skiff that's sunk by the pier?"

Jack looked slightly pained at the memory. "Aye. That'd be the one."

The Governor's mouth quivered with suppressed mirth. "I see." He looked at the three for a long minute. Then he said to Will, "You'll take the greatest care of her, boy. I don't know what I'd do if harm came to her."

"I'll take care of her, sir. I'd give my life for her," said Will simply, turning to look into Elizabeth's eyes. She smiled, and her hand found his.

Jack rolled his eyes a bit at what he considered an excessive display of sentiment, then noticed that Governor Swann was watching him with some amusement. Jack grinned crookedly, and the Governor actually smiled back at him.

"All right, young William," drawled Jack, "enough of that! Miss Swann, if you're going with us you'll likely need to bring a few things. But pack light, mind—it's not a pleasure cruise."

The door of the library opened and Beck came in bearing a tray holding a variety of libations. "We found some rum at last, Miss Elizabeth," he said, stiffly. "The cook uses it in sweets." He set the tray down on a table.

"The cook! In sweets! What a waste!" Jack said, quite appalled.


	5. Tortuga Bound

**Chapter 5: _Tortuga Bound_**

By the time the rescue party was ready to take leave of the Governor and Port Royal it was nearly midnight. In spite of the late hour, Jack felt that the use of any carriage or horse, or even Will's donkey would draw unwanted attention, so they elected to walk back to Fuller's Cove and the _Black Pearl_. Elizabeth had taken Jack at his word and had managed to fit the clothing and other personal items she deemed indispensable into only two bulky knapsacks. Jack, grumbling, had relieved her of one, and Will had shouldered the other. The trio bid Governor Swann adieu, then made their way down the road and into the town. They stopped at the smithy, where Will quickly got his own things together, and left a note for Mr. Brown. Then they were off again, in silent stealth, Will and Jack lugging the baggage, and the unburdened Elizabeth following blithely along, eyes shining with pleasure.

Once free of the town, they began to converse quietly. Jack related a few _Tales of The Black Pearl_, only slightly exaggerating adventures that had come to him since the day he'd escaped hanging (by their good graces, and the Commodore's: many thanks!), and fallen over the parapet of Fort Charles into the sea's embrace.

"Wise of you to avoid English ships," observed Will. "If you're going to continue to do so you could apply for a Letter of Marque—that would certainly keep Norrington from bothering you."

"Thanks, but no," said Jack. "A bit too respectable for my taste, not to mention the tithe they'd demand. Don't know if the rest of the crew would want to trade that for safety's sake. They didn't sign on because of their cautious natures."

"It's my belief," said Elizabeth, "that you quite enjoy causing James annoyance!"

"Well, he is a bit of a stick," conceded Jack, with a grin, "but not a bad sort, for a Naval officer. Has it in for pirates, though. I'm not overly worried about him—the _Pearl_ can outsail the _Dauntless_ any day of the week—but there are those of the brethren that do worry, and rightly so."

They had been walking up a long rise, and reaching the top of it they stopped for a moment to catch their breaths, and to admire the view. Spread out below them was Fuller's Cove, a beautiful little deep-water inlet, just big enough for the _Black Pearl_, which lay anchored in its center.

"Oh, Jack! It's lovely!" said Elizabeth in wonder.

"Aye, she is that," agreed Jack. "We've all worked like dogs to get her cleaned up. Barbossa and his scurvy bunch had her lookin' like death."

"She's certainly come alive now," said Will. "Let's go down: I want to take a closer look, and these bags are getting heavy."

They made their way down the steep, winding trail to the bay, and walked with some relief across the beach to where the sea lapped against the sand, gold and black in the moonlight. Jack dropped Elizabeth's bag, put his hands to his mouth and called out, "Ship ahoy!"

The watch called back, faintly, and disappeared for a short time. Then two figures could be seen climbing down a silvery rope ladder to a waiting longboat.

It was Gibbs and Anamaria handling the oars.

"By all the Saints!" Gibbs said, joyously as the boat fetched up against the sand in the shallows. "If it isn't Bootstrap's whelp and Miss Elizabeth! God's life, it's good to see you both!" He jumped from the boat, followed by Anamaria, who was smiling broadly.

Will smiled too, with some relief. He'd worried about facing Gibbs and the others, after asserting that Jack "fell behind" on the Isla de Muerta. Apparently, a timely rescue from the noose was sufficient recompense for knocking Jack senseless and leaving him to Barbossa's mercies. Elizabeth, who knew how concerned her beloved had been, squeezed his hand happily.

After warm greetings were exchanged, Gibbs turned to Jack. "To what do we owe this pleasure, Captain? Looks like they've come prepared for a long stay! They turnin' pirate?" He gestured toward the baggage, laying in a heap on the sand.

"We're takin' 'em to Tortuga," Jack said. "Montlief's captured Miss Swann's aunt and the lady's due to be sold at the Bride's Auction. We're going to go fetch her."

"Your aunt!" exclaimed Anamaria.

"Yes!" said Elizabeth. "My favorite aunt. She was coming over for our wedding. I haven't seen her since I was a little girl, in England, though we correspond regularly. You'll love her!"

"Insisted on watching Montlief board and take their ship," said Jack, with a meaningful grimace.

"And they ended up takin' her, too?" Gibbs looked at Elizabeth. "She sounds as reckless as yourself!"

"Reckless!" Elizabeth objected. "It was hardly my fault I was kidnapped!"

"Of course, if you hadn't taken my coin..." Will said thoughtfully, then laughed when Elizabeth frowned and poked him with a sharp elbow.

Gibbs chuckled. "Well, it all turned out for the best, eh?" He turned to Jack. "Bride's Auction's in three days. Do you think we'll make it in time?"

"We'll make it, with a wind at our backs. If this good weather holds I'm thinking we can pull into the bay the afternoon before the Auction."

"Aye. If it holds. We can but try. Let's get these bags in the boat, young Will."

o-o-o

The weather did hold: more perfect sunlit days, with a following sea and a stiff and steady breeze. Jack made sure they spread as much canvas as possible, and kept the crew busy trimming the sails.

Anamaria took Elizabeth under her protective wing immediately, and the lady happily moved in to share the pirate's tiny, but private, cabin. The selection of clothing to disguise Elizabeth at the Auction took some doing, as she was quite a bit taller than Anamaria. They ended up borrowing breeches and shirt from Jack, which were a little large but gave Elizabeth plenty of freedom of movement. These items were augmented with various scarves, one at her waist and one to hide her honey colored hair, which they'd decided to plait into a queue for the event. Last was a vest, one of Anamaria's favorite garments, a rather worn but beautifully embroidered affair, festooned with beads and other gewgaws she had collected over the course of the last six months.

"Got that off the first merchant vessel we took after we finished refitting the _Pearl_," Anamaria said.

"It's lovely!" said Elizabeth. "So much more interesting than my usual clothing, too!"

"Well, we live interesting lives here on the _Pearl_, don't we?" said Ana. "That's one way o' puttin' it, anyway. Jack takes care of us, though. Whether it's luck or skill, we haven't had what you'd call a close shave at all these six months. Been livin' fat, for pirates."

Maybe it was luck _and_ skill, Elizabeth thought.

During their first adventure together, Elizabeth had found Jack to be…interesting. No. That was far too great an understatement. He was the most fascinating person she'd ever met, even including her beloved Will. They'd only been with him a short time--less than two weeks, in fact--but during that time he had been so very many things: a drunkard, a fop, a master swordsman, a brilliant strategist, kind, polite, patient, conniving, secretive, sarcastic, humorous, philosophical. A criminal (_Pirate!_). A hero. Which was, of course, why she'd taken her place beside Will after he'd saved Jack from the gallows.

_You forget your place, Turner._

It's right here: between you and Jack.

As was hers. It would have been a crime far worse than any Jack had ever committed to have taken his life that day. And it had been so close—even now she shuddered to think of it.

But there had been a tension about him then…not fear, but a kind of reserve. She smiled to herself. Reserve was hardly a word that fit him, either. And yet, back then, there was that in his behavior that reflected the fact that ten years before he had lost his beloved ship to men he'd thought he could trust, and that he'd spent the next ten years working, scheming, with patient, single-minded obsession to get it back. How old had he been when the mutiny had occurred? Mid-twenties, perhaps? It was hard to tell how old he was now, but there was no doubt that then he'd been very, very young to be a ship's captain. Too young, maybe. He'd been on top of the world, and then the world had turned on him. She could hardly even imagine how hard it must have been for him. But he had not been broken by his misfortune. He had learned from it, and used all his very considerable intelligence and bravery to reverse it. And now, reunited with his beloved ship and commanding a crew that had proven their loyalty to him, he had acquired a relaxed confidence in himself that had not been there before, for all his boasting: _I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?_

So, she thought, it was luck and skill, two prominent traits of the man he had become.

o-o-o

Culinary offerings aboard the _Pearl_ reflected the recent successes of Jack and his crew. Jack had picked up a wonderful cook from the French ship they'd taken. After finally accepting the fact that these pirates were not about to harm him, the man had settled in and proceeded to present meals that were a vast improvement over the makeshift grub on which they'd subsisted for the previous several months. Jack made sure that food, drink and barrels of fresh water were taken aboard at every opportunity, legal and otherwise, and they had obtained an enormous quantity and variety of edibles from Santo Christobal. Elizabeth and Will, joining Jack and sometimes Gibbs and Anamaria in the Captain's cabin for meals, were most impressed.

Owens, who had been introduced to the couple the morning after the _Pearl_ had sailed from Fuller's Cove, often waited on them, displaying a skill for it that had Jack wondering what fault the Señora could have found in the boy to cause her to beat him. Jack knew, however, that part of this attentiveness had to do with the slavish adoration Owens had conceived for Elizabeth. The boy gazed at her like a positive mooncalf, to his and the others' amusement, although none of them let Owens see their laughter. Jack told Elizabeth and Will some of what the boy had gone through, and they were most shocked and sympathetic.

"Are you sure you should allow him to be drawn into this kind of life, though, Jack?" said Elizabeth, a little worried crease between the beautiful eyes.

Jack replied, "He's goin' on thirteen, from what he says, and knows his own mind. I did myself at that age. The first night he was aboard we suggested he might like to stay in Tortuga, with a widow we're acquainted with—she owns a tavern there an' has a couple o' lads of her own. But so far he'll have none of it. He saw us sack Santo Christobal, of course, but that was like picking dainties off a plate—he may change his mind the next time we take a ship, if things don't go as easily."

"He could come work for us in Port Royal," Will said. "As a servant in the house, or even as my apprentice." Jack had told Will about the crew's original plan to give them two hundred gold pieces as a wedding gift, and had told him also that the plan still held, their present expedition to rescue the Dowager Duchess not withstanding. Will and Elizabeth were ecstatic: it meant that Will could buy out Brown, who had indicated that he was prepared to entertain such a proposal if Will could come up with the funds. Two hundred gold pieces would be enough to do that, and to make improvements to the business, which Will had been thinking about for some time.

"The boy might like that idea more than stayin' in Tortuga, considering the way he feels about you," Jack said with a grin at Elizabeth. "It would be a more fitting place for him, certainly. I'll put it to him before we get back to Port Royal."

He ended up doing so much sooner, however. The next morning they were in sight of Tortuga. Owens, remembering that his fate was to be decided upon reaching the pirate haven, was decidedly subdued as he waited on Jack, Will and Elizabeth as they ate their breakfast. Nervous, for the first time his service was a little clumsy. He spilled some tea, dropped a large spoonful of eggs on the table, and knocked over a salt cellar. Pale and flushed by turns, he found himself being eyed frowningly by his Captain. When the meal was over at last, Jack stayed behind while the betrothed couple went up to the deck. Owens busied himself putting the breakfast things on a big tray.

"Owens," said Jack bluntly, "What ails you today?"

Owens, startled, dropped a plate, and it shattered on the floor. He gave a little exclamation of dismay and knelt to sweep up the pieces, saying, almost in tears, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, sir. I…it slipped. I'll try to be more careful."

"God's teeth, boy, it's only a plate!" said Jack, crouching down to help him. "You're nervous as a cat."

"I know. I'm sorry, sir. It's just…we're coming in to Tortuga."

"Oh!" Jack said, suddenly remembering. He stopped and looked at the boy.

Owens also stopped sweeping porcelain from the floor and, swallowing hard, looked up at Jack, a scared look on his face. "Are you going to leave me there?" he asked, wanting to know the worst at once.

"No, I'm not," said Jack, "unless you want to stay."

"Oh!" said Owens, immediately smiling in relief.

"Mind you," continued Jack, "I'm still not convinced this is the place for a boy your age. Not that your work isn't what it should be—you've done a fine job at everything we've given you. But look here: Miss Swann and Turner are to be married in a month's time, and they've told me they'd like to take you on, either in the house or as an apprentice. Turner makes some of the finest swords I've ever seen—knows how to use 'em, too. He'd teach you both, if you wanted it."

"I want to stay on the _Pearl_, if you'll have me," Owens said, very serious.

Jack frowned, but his eyes were kind. "Well, we won't make it official yet awhile, and if you change your mind you'll let me know. I won't hold it against you if you do."

"Thank you, sir," said Owens. Jack started to brush shards of porcelain into a pile, but Owens said, "Please let me do that, sir. I'm sorry I was so ham-handed this morning."

"It's all right, Owens," said Jack, rising. "Lots o' plates where that one came from: swag from that French ship we got Cook from!" Jack gave the boy a meaningful look, and left the cabin.


	6. Bride's Auction

**Chapter 6: _Bride's Auction_**

The _Black Pearl_ dropped anchor in the outer bay, away from the busy docks of Tortuga. Jack wanted to set sail again as soon as they had secured the Dowager Duchess, and there would be no shore leave here for the crew. There was a bit of grumbling about this from the newer members, but Gibbs told them to keep their yaps shut and they'd get all the drinking, fighting, and wenching they wanted when the ship returned after delivering Will, Elizabeth and her aunt back to Port Royal and the Governor. Jack had originally planned, after delivering the wedding gift, to sail to Tortuga and stay for at least a week, maybe two, offloading and selling some of their rich cargo.

Jack, Will and Gibbs waited, along with the two crewmen who would row the longboat, while Elizabeth put on her disguise, with help from Anamaria. When she emerged, Anamaria looking on with an expression of satisfaction, the men's annoyance at being delayed vanished. Elizabeth made a charming pirate, although Jack commented to Gibbs that they'd have to watch that she wasn't approached by some old bugger trying to find a sweet young lad with whom to spend an hour or two.

They all climbed down the rope ladder to the longboat, Elizabeth going last, to Will's slight consternation and the very obvious delight of the other men. A chest of gold was carefully lowered into the boat and they set off. Hitchcock and Dobbs, the rowers, took them all the way across the bay to the town docks, where Jack, Gibbs, Will and Elizabeth disembarked with the chest. Jack instructed the rowers to bring the boat to the beach opposite where the _Pearl_ lay at anchor as soon as it was dark, and to wait for him there until he came with the Dowager Duchess and the others.

The walk into town was enlightening for Elizabeth. She had never in her life witnessed public depravity on such a scale, and stared in disbelief at the licentious behavior of the town's women, as well as the drunken antics of the men who lusted after them.

"Seems to be quieter than last time," Will commented. Elizabeth stared at him.

"Aye. It's always a bit quieter during the day, of course," said Gibbs, chuckling at Elizabeth's shocked expression.

Jack noticed it too. "You'd better wipe that horrified look off your face, Missy," he said to her with a crooked grin. "You're the one who insisted on coming!"

"Well, someone has to identify my aunt for you!" she said.

"You could have described her to us," Will said, gently chiding, and worried about her reaction to the place.

"But I haven't seen her in almost nine years! I'll know her when I see her, I'm sure, but I couldn't take it upon myself to describe her with any exactness."

"Well, let's pop in here for a spot of something wet," said Jack, mimicking Elizabeth's high-toned accent, heading for his favorite tavern. Elizabeth couldn't help smiling.

They went in and seated themselves at a table near the back of the room, setting the chest against the wall. Jack eyed the buxom female who waited on them with great relish, and, after ordering "grog all around", pinched her backside as she turned to leave. The wench looked over her shoulder, pouting with disapproval, although her eyes laughed. Jack grinned, but then encountered a fuming look from Elizabeth. "Sorry!" Jack said, not meaning it. "Couldn't help meself."

"I can see this environment agrees with you in the extreme," said Elizabeth, huffily.

"Well, it does, particularly seein' as I'm playin' the part of The Lustful Sea Captain, on leave and ready to bed anything in skirts. You, however, are playin' The Lustful Crewman with the same object in view, and makin' a right hash of it, I might add."

"I'm sorry!" said Elizabeth, stiffly. "I suppose you're right, but I can't imagine myself behaving as you do."

"You don't need to," said Will. "Just try not to look quite so disapproving, or sound so much like the Governor's Daughter."

The tavern wench brought over a tray with four pewter mugs on it. "Have a drink here, lad," Gibbs said to the deflated Elizabeth, a twinkle in his eye. "You'll soon feel more the thing."

"A toast! To success at the Auction!" said Jack. They all clanked the mugs together, and the men each took a deep swallow of their drinks. Elizabeth sipped tentatively, coughed slightly, but found that, although the drink was strong, it was also cool and quite delicious. She took another sip.

"The Auction, is it, gents?" said a old greybeard at a neighboring table. "There's prime lookers to be offered from what I 'ear. _Ladies_, as were!"

"Happy to hear it, lad," said Jack, with a friendly smile. "I'm in the market meself, tonight. Tired of quick ones against the wall, or an hour or two at Miss Nell's. Gettin' old I reckon."

Elizabeth choked over her drink, and Will sighed and exchanged a look of resignation with Gibbs. Gibbs winked broadly.

"Aye, a man has to think a bit more of comfort in 'is old age," the old man agreed. "Buy a bride, you can do 'er at night and 'ave her for cookin' and sewin' and such during the day. If ye pass on the high an' mighty ones, o' course. They say there's a couple goin' on the block tonight that've never lifted a finger in their blessed lives. More trouble'n they're worth, mark my words."

"God's own truth," agreed Jack. "Still, might be interestin' to train one up. Let me buy you a drink."

He bought a second round, too, when the old man was joined by two younger fellows from the same ship. Elizabeth managed to drink most of her first drink, but switched mugs with Gibbs after the second had sat in front of her awhile, taking his empty one. She was feeling quite woozy, and found that this did indeed cushion the shock of what she was hearing during the men's highly improper conversation. The old man seemed to have found Jack's idea of training up a lady intriguing, and the group discussed in great detail how this might be accomplished, putting forth ideas that would have struck dismay into any lady's heart. She had a difficult time refraining from putting in an acid comment or two, but resisted by thinking of the scolding she would give Jack when they got back to the ship. Really, he was outrageous! No one seemed to notice that she contributed nothing to the discussion, and Will was mostly silent, as well, although there was a distinct look of amusement on his face.

At last, with the approach of evening, both parties elected to take themselves off to stake out an area with a good view of the auction block. Elizabeth rose to her feet, surprised at how the room swayed around her, but once they were walking she managed quite well, staggering very little, and only occasionally finding it necessary to grab Will's arm for support.

The Bride's Auction was held in an open area toward the edge of town, which had, instead of an actual block, a sort of wooden stage with steps attached. The auction wasn't the only activity held there by any means, and the greybeard and his two young friends proceeded to tell the party from the Pearl about a flogging that had been conducted there the week before. They spoke in excruciating detail and Elizabeth began to feel just a little sick. Will, noticing her unusually pale cheeks, took her off to the edge of the square, where they sat down beneath a big tree. This particular point was raised a little above the rest of the square, as it lay against the hillside, and the couple found that they had an excellent view of the stage, even sitting on the grassy ground. They watched Jack and Gibbs continue to converse with the greybeard and his cohorts, and with newer arrivals as well. Finally, as the auctioneer took the stage, signaling the beginning of the proceedings, Jack looked around and spotted them. He and Gibbs picked up the chest and came through the crowd toward them.

"Good view," he commented, on reaching them. "Nice work, takin' your friend off when you did," he said to Will. "Conversation got a bit raw after that." He and Gibbs set the chest down.

"You mean they had worse things to relate?" Elizabeth exclaimed in disbelief, slurring her words only slightly.

"Ssshhh! Keep it down, Miss Governor's Daughter," Jack whispered, sitting on the ground beside her.

She clapped a hand over her mouth and looked around to see if any of the other spectators had heard. Jack laughed.

The Auction was beginning. Gibbs, lowering himself to the ground next to Will, said, "It's likely they'll have put her in near the end, bein' a lady an' all. They tend to go for more as well, no matter what old Greybeard says."

Several women were brought into view, their wrists tied, attended by burly guards. As the first was pushed up the steps to the stage, Elizabeth was glad for the aftereffects of the drink that kept a sheen of unreality over the proceedings. The auctioneer pointed out the various attributes of the girl, much as though she'd been a horse. The bidding began at twenty gold pieces, for the girl was rather plain, and was weeping copiously besides. A bald, squint-eyed man finally won the bidding at seventy gold pieces, and led his purchase away to the jeers and applause of the crowd. Elizabeth felt rather sick again.

Another girl, of very ample proportions, was next led onto the stage. The auctioneer gave her rear a little swipe with a riding crop he carried for such moments, and told her, "Show yer larboard side!" The girl jumped, startled, but turned as requested. Someone from the audience called, "We wants the redhead!" Elizabeth looked at the line of waiting females, and spotted one who was indeed red-haired, curvaceous and astonishingly complacent about her predicament.

But the auctioneer knew his work and got nearly one hundred coins for the ample girl. One by one, the women were sold, and there was nothing that could be done. Elizabeth found it in her to wish that Jack could buy them all, although there were a few that, like the redhead, actually didn't seem to mind the indignity of being on display and sold to the highest bidder. Most, however, wore a defeated, hopeless air. Another line of women was brought out, and then another.

"Still don't see her?" said Jack to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked at each face intently, but had to shake her head. But then, when the third group had been auctioned off, she finally saw her Aunt.

"There she is!" Elizabeth hissed excitedly. "Jack! She's there!"

"Where?" Jack demanded. Two women had been brought forward: one a lanky, bedraggled fair-haired lady of middle years, wrists in light irons, dressed only in her white shift; the other looked very young—too young, Jack thought—small and dark-haired, her figure neat, her face pretty as a flower. A very angry flower: she was struggling vigorously and kicking the oaf that was guarding her, in spite of the rope tying her wrists tightly together.

"There!" said Elizabeth. "Oh! Well done, Auntie! See, Jack! She's the one who just kicked the guard!"

"That's your Aunt?" Will exclaimed in surprise.

"You're sure?" Jack demanded.

"Of course I'm sure!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Why she hasn't changed at all. Dear Auntie!"

Jack watched Dear Auntie's continued efforts against the guard. A slow grin lit his face. She _was_ finely dressed—not in showy stuff, but he knew good cloth when he saw it. "She don't look old enough to be married, much less a dowager," he commented.

"Oh no! She's quite old," Elizabeth assured him. "She's turned thirty this year!"

Jack gave Elizabeth an ironic sidelong glance, but she was too engrossed in watching her Aunt to notice. Jack looked back at his prospective purchase, too, and saw that the crowd was beginning to react to the lady's antics with some enthusiasm. He frowned, realizing her behavior was raising her potential price by the moment. The guard manhandled the little spitfire up the first few steps.

"Oh, I hope they won't hurt her!" Elizabeth said with some distress.

Jack, watching the dowager duchess turn and viciously knee the man where it would do the most good, said, "Seems as though she's more like to hurt them." He rose to his feet and brushed off his coat and breeches. "Well, this is going to be much more interesting than I'd reckoned," he said, gold teeth glinting in a grim smile. He strode off into the crowd toward the platform.

"What did he mean by that?" Elizabeth asked Will, misliking the look on Jack's face.

Will laughed shortly. "Well, he _is_ a pirate, you know." Seeing that she was becoming alarmed, he added, "Don't worry! You know he wouldn't hurt her. And truly, your Aunt looks quite capable of handling anything—even Jack Sparrow."

Elizabeth turned her eyes back to the platform, onto which her Aunt had just been pushed. The dowager duchess drew herself up and looked down her straight little nose at the crowd, her delicately arched brows raised. "Yes," Elizabeth agreed, fondly. "She's the most redoubtable creature!"

As Jack made his way toward the middle of the crowd, the auctioneer began. "And here, gentlemen, we have the prize of the evening: a little beauty of aristocratic origins, as trim of ankle as you please! And not only of ankle," he said with a suggestive leer at the dowager's fashionably low décolletage. He motioned to the guard to take hold of the lady, but the guard shook his head unequivocally, preferring to keep his distance. The auctioneer sighed and walked over close enough to use the riding crop to lift the hem of her skirts himself. The Dowager Duchess gave an angry cry of outrage and tried to kick him, but not before the audience, cheering enthusiastically, had caught a glimpse of beautifully shaped lower extremities in slightly soiled and torn stockings. The auctioneer went on: "Aye, gents, it'll be a lucky man who'll win the right to tame this one. Now who'll open with a hundred in gold?"

There were plenty of takers. Blast it, Jack thought, if she'd just stop looking like that! But she was a lovely piece, chin tilted, cheeks flushed, bosom heaving, and the bidding rose accordingly. Jack began to wonder if the five hundred would be enough.

The bidding slowed somewhat around three hundred, and he raised his hand.

"300 from the Captain!" called the auctioneer. "Do I hear three-ten?"

"Three-fifty!" called a voice. It was a big, dough-faced fellow with little eyes and fine but ill-kempt clothing. He was standing only a little way away, and Jack thoroughly mistrusted the oily look he was giving the lady.

"Three-sixty," Jack shouted.

"Three-sixty, do I hear three-seventy?"

"Four hundred!" called the oily fellow.

"Four hundred. Do I hear Four-ten?"

Jack raised his hand.

"Four-ten to the Captain, do I hear…"

"Four-thirty!"

"Four-fifty!" Jack shouted.

"Four-fifty! Do I hear Four-sixty?'

The oily fellow raised a hand, eyeing Jack with dislike now.

"Four-sixty! Do I hear…"

"Five hundred," called Jack, tired of the game. If the oily fellow bested him, well, Jack would just have to kill him and take the wench. Fellow probably needed killing anyway.

But the big man only gave Jack a look of disgust, cast a longing look at the lady, and shrugged.

"Five hundred! Going once, twice…sold to the Captain for five hundred gold pieces!"

Jack strode forward through the crowd, wincing inwardly at the thought of all that gold leaving his hands, even temporarily, but as he drew closer to the stage he grew more resigned. The little Dowager Duchess was really amazingly pretty, although she certainly looked nothing like Elizabeth, whose beauty had troubled his dreams a time or two. Lady Henrietta was shorter, fine-boned but sweetly rounded in all the right places. In spite of his annoyance at her behavior, he found his eyes lingering on the perfect bosom, and then considering with relish the kissable lips, and the pansy-brown eyes that flashed at him with anger and alarm.

Gibbs and Will were right behind him with the chest of gold, and they all climbed up the steps. Jack walked over to the lady and took out his knife, a very wicked-looking one. Her eyes widened, but then she stiffened and, pink with fury, she snapped at him: "Don't you dare touch me, you…"

"_Pirate?_" he supplied, lifting her hands and quickly cutting the binding at her wrists. "But of course I'm going to touch you," he murmured provocatively, and pulled her roughly against him and kissed her.


	7. Lady Harry

**Chapter 7: _Lady Harry_**

For a long moment the lady was so surprised she forgot to struggle. Then, awareness obviously reasserting itself, she gave a muffled shriek of indignation and tried to shove Jack away.

The crowd erupted again in cheers and catcalls, and even Will grinned, although he wondered what Elizabeth must be thinking about this turn of events.

Before the Dowager Duchess could inflict any damage on him, Jack released her, retaining a wrist. Her expression of stunned outrage was rather adorable, really, but he saw the opportune moment at hand and took immediate advantage of it, pulling her sharply forward and tipping her over his shoulder. Straightening with a deliberate bounce (and smirking at her breathless squeak of protest), he stuck his knife back in his belt and turned to the auctioneer and guard with a nod.

"Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure!" With great aplomb, he walked back down the steps, his fair acquisition squirming feebly. Will and Gibbs, after a speaking look at one another, followed. The four wove their way their way through the raucous crowd, Jack grinning at the friendly slaps and laughing comments, some envious, some lewd, but all congratulatory to some degree. Elizabeth joined them as they reached the edge of the clearing and, leaving their well-wishers behind, they headed down a path, through the trees.

The Dowager Duchess, who'd had the wind half knocked out of her when the pirate had tossed her over his shoulder so rudely, began to recover enough to commence struggling vigorously, and pounded his back with her fists. "Put me _down!_" she managed to gasp.

"Aunt Harry!" came a loud, slightly slurred whisper. "It's all right—it's me: _Elizabeth!_"

Harry raised her head awkwardly. It _was_ Elizabeth--she'd know that face anywhere--but dressed in outlandish Male Attire, and followed closely, by the two men who had carried the chest of gold.

"Elizabeth!" she exclaimed loudly, then yelped in startled pain, when her captor gave her a hard swat on her conveniently placed backside.

"Stow it!" he ordered, sharply.

"Yes, you must be quiet, Aunt!" Elizabeth hissed imploringly. "He'll put you down soon!"

Harry objected vehemently, "He needs to put me down _now!_ I can't breathe!" Though careful to keep her voice low, she made up for this concession by pummeling the pirate's back with greater violence. She then tried rocking from side to side, and at last achieved the desired result.

With an exasperated oath, Jack stopped and set the lady on her feet, but before she had time to recover, he caught her wrist, snapped, "Happy now? Come on, then!" and set off once more.

"W-wait! Stop!" she demanded, stumbling after him, perforce.

Elizabeth came up beside her. "We shouldn't stop, Auntie—if they suspect who you really are they are liable to want far more gold than Jack gave them—they could have held you for ransom! We must get you back to his ship."

"Oh, that's absurd! Five hundred is a fortune as it is!"

"Don't bloody remind me," Jack growled. "Now quit squawkin' and _move_!" 

"I don't squawk!" the Dowager Duchess stated, greatly offended.

"You do. Repeatedly."

"Insolent ruffian!" She angrily tried to jerk her wrist from his grasp.

"Ill-conditioned chit!" he retorted, tightening his hold on her.

She suddenly caught a toe on her long skirts and stumbled, giving a cry of alarm, but he swiftly steadied her before she could fall, and stopped for a moment.

"All right?" he demanded.

"Y-yes!" she replied, most chagrinned. She looked up at him in the dim light, her expression decidedly mulish.

"You're welcome!" he said pointedly, and smirked grimly as she stiffened. "Watch your step, if you don't want to be carried," he added, severely.

As they set off again, Harry pulled at the front of her skirts, dragging them out of the way as best she could, abandoning argument in favor of giving full attention to the task at hand. The party walked in silence now along the rough, shadowed path. There were no further mishaps and, after a few minutes, they emerged from the trees and stepped onto a moonlit beach. Harry felt cool sand seeping into her shoes as they crossed to where a longboat was nosed up onto shore, waiting. A beautiful ship lay beyond, riding at anchor in the bay.

They were greeted with relief by Hitchcock and Dobbs.

"Did you get her then, sir?" Hitchcock asked Jack as the party drew near, looking at Harry in a puzzled way.

"Aye, this is the lady," he informed them. He turned and pulled Harry close, and she gave another involuntary yelp as he swept her up in his arms. "Quit that yippin', will you?" he said, carrying her through the shallow water to the longboat.

"Well, forgive me! But you might warn me before you pick me up! Or not do it at all!"

"I'll take it under advisement," he said, sweetly ironic. "In you go, m'girl."

He set her down in the boat on one of the seats, then climbed in himself, followed by the rest of the party. Elizabeth sat next to her Aunt, and Will sat next to Jack, opposite the ladies. The other three shoved them off, then scrambled in, Hitchcock and Dobbs manning the oars, and Gibbs disposing himself in the bow.

"Oh, Aunt Harry!" exclaimed Elizabeth, " It's so good to see you again! I was so worried! It must have been dreadful!" She hugged her aunt, who returned the embrace warmly.

"Well, it was, but I am quite unharmed after all," Harry assured her, dismissing the perils and humiliations of the last several days with such an air of unconcern that Jack was nearly betrayed into laughter. But then the lady gently disengaged herself and turned to face him. She said, with dreadful hauteur, "But Elizabeth! Who is this…this _person!_"

Harry tilted her chin up, angrily aware that she was colouring at the look he was giving her. He was quite...oh! _Impossible!_ Infuriatingly sure of himself, bizarrely clad, …and yet she could not help but notice that he was one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. Most annoying! In addition, he'd an odd charm and a devilish light in his eye that boded very ill for her peace of mind. She fixed him with a cold glare, in spite of her burning cheeks.

Elizabeth said, "This is Jack Sparrow, Auntie! Excuse me, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow!" she added, when the pirate raised one brow in silent protest. "I told you about him in my letter, you know. And this," her niece went on, gesturing to Will, "is my betrothed, Will Turner, the finest swordsmith in the Caribbean!"

Harry smiled at the young man. "I am so very pleased to finally meet you, Will." She reached forward and clasped the hand he offered. Then she sat back, and the smile vanished as she turned again to the pirate. "Captain?"

"Lady Fanshawe?"

She said, stiffly, "It seems I owe you a debt of gratitude for your assistance today, as well as for your past efforts on Elizabeth's behalf."

"Aye, you do," he agreed. "And a cool five hundred."

"Five hundred, Aunt!" There was a note of admiration in Elizabeth's voice. "That was by far the highest price paid tonight!"

"Thanks to her hoydenish behavior," Jack said, bitterly.

"My behavior," stated Lady Harry, pugnaciously, "was entirely appropriate to the occasion!"

"A _lady_," said Jack, pointedly, "would've been faintin' away, or havin' the vapors. Would've saved me a couple o' hundred at least."

Harry snapped, "You shall have your money back just as soon as I can arrange it, Captain Sparrow. And let me tell you, if you ever lay violent hands on me again I won't rest 'til I've put a knife between your ribs!"

"Violent hands?" Jack exclaimed. "You mean that one little smack I gave you back there? My word on't, lass, you come at me with a knife and you'll be eatin' off the mantelpiece for a week after! Y'know, your brother was dead right about you!"

Elizabeth and Will stared in surprise at Jack, but Gibbs only smiled grimly. Harry, however, was livid.

"My brother," she hissed, "is a pompous old woman! And as for you, you…oh! I am quite at a loss for words!"

"Not noticeably."

Harry seethed. "Just take us to Port Royal immediately, so we can give you your gold and be rid of you!"

"An excellent notion. But if you think you're going to be givin' orders aboard the _Pearl_ you'd better think again, m'girl."

"I am not _your girl!_"

"Well, you bloody _are_, seein' as I just paid five hundred in gold for you!"

"I've told you we'll pay you back! You can't buy a person!" she exclaimed.

"Ha! What a corker! Try tellin' that to those other women that were up there tonight. Or, for that matter, the poor sods who work the fields on _your plantation_."

That brought her up short. She said in a more subdued tone, "It is partly to address the latter situation that I've come to the Caribbean."

"Well, that'll be a great thing, to be sure, if it comes to pass. As for payin' me back, we'll see that when it happens as well. Your brother didn't have the coin the last time we met, which is why it's my five hundred that's in the hands of that cursed auctioneer. And until I'm paid, you are most certainly my girl, and you'll take your orders from me just like everyone else aboard the _Pearl_, or there'll be hell to pay."

"You are despicable!" Harry hissed.

Jack laughed grimly. "Like niece, like aunt, is it? Well, sticks 'n' stones to you too, love," he drawled, with an insolent smile.

"Ship, ahoy!" called Gibbs, breaking the tension somewhat. "Throw us a line!"

While the Captain and the Dowager Duchess had been occupied with their lively exchange, the longboat had drawn close to the _Black Pearl_. Harry looked up at the ship, suddenly looming tall above them, and nearly exclaimed, "How lovely!" but bit back the words, knowing how they would please its captain. The ship _was_ lovely, though: imposing in size, built on beautiful lines, and everything about her trim and well-cared-for. Several persons were peering down at them, over the railing. "Is that 'er, Captain?" "Here's yer line, Mr. Gibbs!" A rope was thrown, then a rope ladder slithered down the side of the ship. Harry's lips pressed together slightly: she was a little afraid of heights, and the ladder didn't look easy to climb, especially if one was burdened with long skirts.

The longboat came alongside and they tied off. Gibbs steadied the rope ladder and said in a kindly voice that was meant to smooth ruffled feathers, "Up you go then, Lady Fanshawe."

But Harry, looking at the ladder with ill-concealed misgiving, said briskly, "No. No, please go ahead Elizabeth, Will."

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked anxiously, looking from her aunt to Jack. Jack winked at Elizabeth, suppressing a smile. Elizabeth frowned at him, and shook her head slightly in admonition, but his eyes laughed.

"Go on, Miss Swann. I'll help your Auntie up," Jack said.

Harry stiffened, prepared to exhibit Disdain For Unwanted Assistance, but found herself flushing hotly as her eyes met the knowing look in his. She turned away, biting her lip.

The sea was beautifully calm, with a half-moon riding in a cloudless sky. The longboat rocked only slightly. Even so, Harry's apprehension grew as she watched first Elizabeth and then Will negotiate the unsteady ladder.

"All right, your ladyship, you're next, " said Jack. When she didn't move he added: "Shall I carry you up?"

"N-no! Of course not!" She firmly rose to her feet. But then, looking up the ladder again, she dearly wished she could have told him _Yes, if you please!_, closing her eyes 'til it was all over.

"Here," he said, standing too.

A small gasp escaped her as he took her arm and turned her to face him. His hands caught at her skirts, taking handfuls, lifting and tucking the material into the wide sash at her waist, which process raised the hem well above her ankles. Harry stood, unprotesting, mentally berating herself for being a hen-hearted goose, her heart thumping uncomfortably all the while. Finished, he told her, "Now, put one foot in front of the other, and don't look down, or up. I'll be right behind you." She frowned up at him. "Admirin' the view, as it were," he explained, smiling lasciviously.

Annoyance momentarily trumping fear, she set her teeth, turned, grabbed onto the ladder and stepped onto it, one foot, then the other. Slowly she began to climb. It was actually rather easier than she had expected, especially with her skirts out of the way, and she forced herself to continue steadily, careful to follow his instructions about keeping her eyes straight ahead, until she was halfway up and her right foot slipped, badly. She gasped and froze, her hands clutching the ropes, and involuntarily glanced down, horrified at the height she'd already attained. But then her tormentor roared "_Don't look down!_" from just below her and her eyes snapped to front and center. "_Climb!_" She stifled what she very much feared would have been a whimper of distress and obeyed, earnest prayer (_OhGod!OhGod!OhGod!_) lending her strength. And then, at last, she was near the top and strong arms were catching her and helping her onto the deck. She stood there, swaying and oddly short of breath, confronted with the many faces of the _Black Pearl's_ crew.

Jack gained the deck behind her and pulled her firmly around to face him once more. He said, in a low, teasing tone, "For the Lord's sake, don't faint now!" and pulled at her skirts so that they fell about her feet again.

She instinctively put her hands up to smooth her hair into place, complaining in a shaken voice, "I must look dreadful!"

"I doubt you're capable of that," he returned, blandly. He licked his thumb and, tipping her chin up with his other hand, rubbed a smudge off of her cheek. "Perfect. Come meet the crew."

She blinked as he turned her again, belatedly absorbing the fact that he had actually paid her a compliment.

Jack began the introductions, watching her reaction to his crewmembers with some reservation at first. But she surprised him. She straightened, gathering her composure immediately, then nodded and smiled, and shook each hand (some of which would've been better for a scrubbing), playing the great lady to a nicety. Yet there wasn't a bit of starch in her, and Jack could see that his crew loved her for it.

Such a variety of names and faces! Harry's heart was wrung at what some of them had obviously endured over the years. Yet they were, to a man, kind, cheerful, and very polite to her. It was also obvious to her that they held Captain Sparrow in very high regard.

When Owens, one of the last, approached, Harry's eyes twinkled at his worshipful gaze.

"Are you a...a _Real Lady?_" the boy stammered, and then reddened, fearing this sounded a silly question.

Harry could not help giving a little laugh. "Well, yes, but through no inherent virtue of my own, I assure you! You are very young to be a pirate, are you not?"

"Captain Sparrow is taking me on as a Cabin Boy," Owens said with simple pride, and directed an equally worshipful gaze at Jack.

"I see! How very exciting, to be sure. I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Owens!" Harry held out her hand. The boy took it, and held it for a moment, then blushed even more and let it go.

"No, that's not the way, lad," said Jack. He took Harry's hand. She turned to him, surprised, and a smile lit her face as he bowed gracefully, raising her fingers to his lips in a brief salute, quite in the grand manner. Catching the spirit of this, she sank smoothly into practiced curtsey, then rose, laughing. For a vivid moment, the two looked at each other with unalloyed pleasure and the world seemed to fade around them.

General laughter and murmurs of approval at this performance brought them back to themselves. Jack let go the little hand, and Harry, coloring, turned to greet the final member of Jack's crew, who was eyeing the two of them with humorous speculation.

Harry's eyes widened. "But you are a woman!"

"Anamaria, Lady Fanshawe." Ana extended a hand, but to her surprise the Dowager Duchess took it in both of hers, frowning a little at her.

"But you are so pretty! How on earth do you manage here, among all these men?"

"Anamaria manages just fine, and I've the bruises to prove it," Jack said, comically rueful.

Harry nodded approvingly. "Justly earned, I've no doubt," she said to Jack.

Anamaria said, with a slight smile, "You could say that, though mostly not for the reason you'd think. But you'd better watch yourself, Lady Fanshawe: he'll break your heart if you let him. He's a dreadful flirt, as well as a scoundrel."

"Yes, I'd begun to suspect that already," Harry said, with a sidelong glance at Jack. His gaze now held a predatory gleam, and she arched a brow, subduing the smile on her lips, though not in her eyes. "Quite incorrigible, in fact! But I thank you for the warning."

The introductions now being complete, Jack said to the crew: "We set sail for Port Royal immediately. Gibbs, see to it. Will and I will see the ladies disposed in my cabin. Owens, tell Anatole to bring some supper for us—we're fair famished."

A number of _Aye, Captain!_'s were heard, and the crew plunged into their work, Gibbs shouting additional orders to various underlings. Harry stood watching, suddenly feeling quite exhausted, although she was fascinated as always by the varied yet coordinated activities of a ship's crew.

"Come on then, " Jack said, taking her arm and leading her across the deck. "How long's it been since you ate or slept?"

"They gave us some rice and a little fruit, but that was this morning," she said, "But to tell you the truth I haven't slept much in several nights, and that is my most pressing need, I think. Other than that, I am very well."

"Did Montlief treat you decently?" Jack asked, a slight edge to his voice.

"Well enough, yes. I had a tiny cabin to myself, and I've grown used to sleeping in a narrow berth. I always sleep wonderfully on ships—rather like being rocked in a cradle! But in Tortuga we only had the floor and a blanket each, in a small and airless room. Not at all what I am accustomed to: I doubt my back will ever be the same. The company was much improved, however."

"You'll like bein' back on a ship again, then," he said. He led her carefully down the companionway steps and along the narrow lamp-lit passage to a door at the far end of it.

"This is my cabin," Jack said, opening the door. Golden light streamed out. She walked in and looked about, her eyes widening at its luxurious space and appointments. "You and Miss Swann can use it until we make Port Royal again—at least to sleep in: I'll be needin' it some during the day, and Will and I will take our meals in here with you."

But then Lady Henrietta's eye lighted on what was, to her, the most beautiful feature of the cabin. "A bed!" she breathed. "You have a real bed!"

"I thought you'd like that!"

"I haven't slept in a real bed for two months!" She went to where it lay in the corner of the cabin and placed her hands on the soft covers reverently. It was large enough for two--_just the right size_, she thought. And there were lovely fat down pillows, with embroidered satin covers. She turned and sat down, half-closing her eyes with pleasure.

"Aunt Harry!" Elizabeth said, walking into the open door of the cabin, followed by Will, "we'll be underway soon! We'll be home in two days!"

Will added, "Harris says dinner will be brought in a quarter hour. _Lady Fanshawe!_ Jack, is she all right?"

Harry had slowly collapsed sideways onto a pillow. She sighed happily at the feel of the satin under her cheek.

Jack chuckled. "Aye, she's fine, but she'll be asleep in a quarter hour."

Harry drew her legs up onto the bed and let her eyes drift closed. "No, no!" she murmured. "I shall just rest my eyes for a moment."

It was almost her last conscious thought until morning.


	8. Morning at Sea

**Chapter 8: _Morning At Sea_**

Lady Henrietta drifted up from the depths of slumber, slowly becoming aware of the gentle motion of the ship and the early sun, warm and golden, peeking through the drapes on the window behind her. The air in the cabin was a little cool, but the covers were warm, and beside her Elizabeth lay, still sleeping, breathing softly. The nebulous sense of happiness gradually gave way to more definite feelings of relief, and excited anticipation as she began to recall the events of the night before.

_Captain Jack Sparrow_.

She opened her eyes, a little crooked smile playing about her lips.

Elizabeth's beautiful face lay on the pillow beside her, and Harry's heart swelled with love for her niece. If she had been a darling eight years ago, she was now quite stunning, and with the same daring spirit she'd had back then. Though twelve years lay between them, Harry had always felt a connection with Elizabeth, right from the girl's birth, that had nothing to do with family ties. It had been a cause of great distress to her when her brother had been appointed Governor of Jamaica, effectively removing Elizabeth from her life.

Elizabeth woke then, and smiled sleepily. "Auntie!" the girl murmured. "How lovely. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, indeed. It is so very good to be with you again, my dear. I've missed you so much."

"And I you," said Elizabeth. "Are you sure you are all right? You seemed quite exhausted last night—we couldn't wake you when they brought dinner."

"Well, I hadn't slept much for several nights, you know. But I am quite rested now, and I daresay I shall be ravenous soon. What a delightful adventure this has turned out to be after all. Rescued in the nick of time by my favorite niece and her pirate friends!"

Elizabeth laughed. "I'm so glad you think so. I was afraid, last night, that you were more than a little upset. Jack—Captain Sparrow—was behaving so…so _oddly_!"

"Was he?" The Dowager Duchess's eyes twinkled.

"Well, yes! I mean…I know he has an odd manner and appearance, even under ordinary circumstances, but he's usually quite patient and level-headed, too. But last night he actually seemed angry with you, at least at first. And you, with him! It was a little distressing, as I so much wanted you to like him. He has been a very good friend to us."

"I know he has. Don't be concerned, my dear. It was…well, a sort of game between us. And very likely it will continue somewhat, for the time being. But you must not worry about it. Tell me about your first adventure with him."

Elizabeth told her, beginning with her first meeting with Will, rescued long ago from the debris of Barbossa's attack, and ending with Jack sailing away from Port Royal with his beloved ship and new crew. It was a long tale, her Aunt interrupting to demand more detail at some points, and exclaiming in horror or laughing delightedly at others. By the end, they were both sitting up in the bed, Harry propped up with pillows, Elizabeth sitting cross-legged like Scheharazade.

"What a story!" Harry finally exclaimed. "My love, you should write it all down—what a sensation it would make if it could be published! But no one would ever believe it. I wouldn't myself if I didn't know you for a truthful girl."

"Indeed, it is all true, Aunt. Barbossa and his crew were quite dreadful, and cursed as I have told you." She shuddered dramatically, then smiled and added, "But it all ended so happily. Will and I are to be married in a month! I am so very glad you came over for the wedding!"

"I am glad too. The wedding gave me the push I needed to take action at last. I had been thinking of coming over for some time. All is not well on St. Claire, you see."

"The Fanshawes' island?"

"_My_ island! Charles left it to me on his death. Charles's nephew was sent over to run the plantation after Charles died, but it is actually my property. As far as we knew Monty was doing an adequate job, and we've been receiving shipments of gold every six months or so for years—my share of the profits. But then the shipments stopped—the last was two years ago—though Montgomery wrote to us that there had been setbacks of various sorts. But Monty isn't known for his veracity, and we began to hear disturbing rumors regarding conditions on St. Claire. One sea captain told the Duke he'd never stop there again!"

"But why?" Elizabeth asked, disturbed at this news.

"We don't know exactly—the captain wouldn't tell us anything specific—but we think there may be abuse of the island's folk. I didn't think Monty would indulge in such behavior, but it's possible he's changed considerably since coming to live here. Power can corrupt even the mildest of men, after all."

There came some noise of heavy footsteps in the outside passage. Both ladies turned, suddenly alert. The steps grew louder, and ended with a smart rap on the door.

"Are you decent?" Jack's voice called.

"Yes!" both ladies cried, enthusiastically if somewhat inaccurately. Harry added, "Have you brought our morning chocolate?"

The door opened. "No, something better!" Jack replied, smiling at the picture the ladies made, particularly the Dowager Duchess who was sitting up expectantly, quite heedless of her thin chemise and disheveled hair.

Jack and Will entered the cabin, each carrying one end of a large, heavy trunk. It barely fit through the door.

"Oh, what is it?" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

"And good morning to you, too, your ladyship," Jack said, his laughing eyes belying the admonition in his voice. "Miss Swann," he added politely. The two men set the trunk against a wall and Jack bent to unlock it while Will nodded a rather shy greeting to the ladies. Then both men stood aside and Jack threw open the trunk, saying, "It's this!"

The two ladies gasped at the array of gorgeous fabrics revealed. Jack picked up some gold brocade and held it up.

"A dress!" Harry gasped. "How lovely!"

"And a dozen more where that came from. And stockings, shifts—I don't know what all. You can go through 'em. Got them off a Spanish wench a little over a week ago. Thought you might be able to use some of them since your own things are lost and that frock you were wearing has seen been better days."

"Oh, you darling man!" exclaimed Lady Henrietta, bounding out of bed.

"Auntie!" said Elizabeth, a little dismayed, for her aunt's chemise was far more revealing that the one she herself wore, the material a nearly transparent lawn, the cut of it low across her bosom. Will's eyes sought the ceiling and an embarrassed flush colored his cheek, but Jack only chuckled appreciatively. He handed Harry the dress as she came to him.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" she said happily. She knelt to take a closer look at the trunk's other contents, saying, "I vow, I am quite in charity with you this morning!"

"I'm so relieved to hear you say so, Lady Fanshawe," Jack said facetiously.

"I am sure you are," agreed Harry, glancing up at him, her eyes twinkling. "But really, you are too good, thinking of such a thing, and I do thank you!" She picked up a dress of teal-coloured silk. "My favorite color! Oh, I must try it on!" She set down the dress, stood abruptly and took each of the men by an arm, saying, as she turned them toward the door, "And now you really must go away, for Elizabeth has already been shocked enough. But come back with breakfast in half an hour: I'm starving!"

The two men found themselves in the passageway and the door summarily shut. They looked at each other.

"My God!" Will said, not at all certain he approved of Dear Auntie.

But Jack only grinned. "Come on then, lad," he said, "We have our orders: breakfast in half an hour."


	9. Change of Plans

**Chapter 9: _Change of Plans_**

Jack and Will returned half an hour later, followed by the cook, Anatole, and two of his underlings with the breakfast things, as per orders. The ladies were now dressed, and Harry, in the teal gown, greeted them happily.

"You see," she said, "it fits very well."

"Too big at the waist," Jack commented critically. "And the bodice, too."

"Perhaps a little," Harry conceded, "but I just need a sash to remedy that, until I can alter it. It is the right length, though. And such a beautiful color!"

"Come and have some breakfast," said Jack, smiling at her. "These scones of Anatole's will fatten you up!"

The four of them sat down at the big carved mahogany table.

"This is a most sumptuous meal, Captain Sparrow", Harry said, as dish after dish was uncovered and offered to her. "How do you manage it? We never ate this well on the _Nightingale_."

"We've had some good luck lately: caught a French merchant ship about two months ago and it was loaded down with things meant for the Governor of Martinique. Food and drink of the best, and the plate an' silver to go with 'em. Anatole, too. He took some persuadin'--or _I_ did: his salary's devilish high--but he puts forth his best efforts for us. Says the governor wouldn't have been half so appreciative as the _Pearl's_ crew's been. He's a real asset."

"That is most evident," agreed Harry, setting to with a will.

Conversation was general and somewhat desultory after that, as all of them enjoyed Anatole's delicious handiwork. But at last Lady Harry sat back, with a final cup of tea.

"I've been thinking," she said.

Jack looked up and murmured, "God help us."

She frowned across at him, although her eyes laughed. "How far are we from St. Claire Island, Captain Sparrow?"

His eyes narrowed, but he answered evenly, "Oh, four, maybe five days."

"And then from St. Claire to Port Royal it's…"

"Another four."

"So if we were to make a stop at St. Claire before you take us back to Port Royal it would only be a little over a week added to the voyage."

Jack studied her, a slight quizzical smile on his face. "And just why would we be wanting to do that? We're two days out of Port Royal. Your brother'll be expecting you back."

"As he's expressed no particular desire to see me these eight years and more I feel he can very well wait another week. The thing is, there have been rumors of ill doings at my plantation on St. Claire. It is my desire to investigate these rumors that has brought me here from England, not just the wedding, as important an event as that may be!" Harry smiled at her niece and Will, before turning again to Jack. "If you could take me to St. Claire now, before we return to Port Royal, I could conceivably bring back evidence that would enable me to convince the Navy to aid me in remedying the situation, if such measures are needed. Better sooner than later, after all!"

Jack looked at her for a long moment, then said: "I've heard the rumors. Some very nasty ones too, I might add. But it's none of my business, and no profit in it either. Let Norrington take care of it. I'm sure you won't have any trouble persuading him."

The Dowager Duchess said: "But there _is_ profit to be had: I could pay you! Perhaps there is gold on the island, for Monty hasn't sent me my share in nearly two years. We could come to an agreement as to price. And of course it is your business!"

"Oh? And how's that?"

Harry had colored slightly, but said in a teasing tone, "You told me last night I was...er..._your girl_, did you not? Well, St. Claire Island belongs to me, so you certainly have an interest there, too."

He sat back and studied her, a slight crooked smile on his face. "Now why would you want to pay me to do what Norrington would likely do for free?"

The awkward moment having past, Harry said briskly, "If I can convince him to do it, which is not at all certain. And there would probably be a considerable delay—you are aware, are you not, of the reluctance of the military to take decisive action on anything less than issues of national importance."

"That's certainly true," put in Will. He said to Jack, "It's why I sprang you from jail six months ago, if you'll recall."

Jack looked at Will and then Elizabeth, a slight crease between his brows. "And what do you two think of this scheme? Taking an extra week to return? Your father's like to set Norrington on me with a vengence!"

Elizabeth said, "I don't think my father will be too concerned: he'll likely assume there has been some hitch in our effort to free my aunt and that it is simply taking longer than we'd planned. For my part, I think it would be delightful to spend another week sailing on the _Pearl_."

"A pleasure cruise after all," Jack commented. "And you, Will?"

"I don't see why we shouldn't, if you're willing."

Jack looked at Harry again, who was looking quite smug. "So what kind of price are we speaking of, Lady Fanshawe?"

"Another five hundred in gold!" Harry said promptly.

Jack shook his head. "Too low. I'd want a thousand. Don't know what we're getting into here, after all."

"A thousand! Besides the five hundred? That's a fortune!"

"Aye, it is. I tend to become extremely cooperative when there's a fortune involved."

Harry frowned. "Seven hundred," she offered.

"Nine hundred. And that's final," Jack said.

She studied his face for a moment, then sighed. "Oh, very well. Nine hundred, plus the five I owe you. It's damned robbery!"

"'Piracy', I believe is the word," said Jack. "And I'll thank you to keep the cussin' behind your teeth, lass, or I may have to lay 'violent hands' on you again. Offends my sensibilities to hear such talk from a lady!"

Harry made a little face at him, and said, "Well, lord knows I wouldn't want to do that!" Then she laughed.

Jack laughed too, but added, "Good God, I must be out of me mind, agreein' to this."

"Nonsense," said Harry. "I daresay you will enjoy our company excessively, and have a nice profit to show for it as well, all without doing anything illegal or dangerous."

"Illegal, no. As for dangerous: well, we'll just reserve judgment on that, eh?"


	10. Clothing Makes The Lady

**Chapter 10: _Clothing Makes The Lady_**

The Captain left the cabin shortly after the conclusion of the unexpected negotiations, and Will escorted Elizabeth up to the deck to take the air. Harry dug down into the trunk of Spanish clothing and unearthed a long white satin sash. She spent some time tying it around her waist, getting the bow at the back just so, and studying the effect in the ornate mirror above the sideboard. She decided it would do, for the moment, and, after making sure her hair was securely pinned up, ventured forth to see the _Black Pearl_ by daylight.

She climbed up the companionway steps and looked around. The ship was turning in a slow arc toward its new heading, and the crew was busy with the various tasks necessitated by this maneuver. No one paid much heed to her, although those that did see her politely nodded a greeting. Harry made her way out to the rail, choosing a spot where she would not impede the crew's activities, and looked out over the sea. There was a fresh breeze blowing, which tugged tendrils of hair loose around her face, and the sun sparkled on the white-capped waves. The breeze cooled the sun's warmth to exactly the right degree, and Harry basked in it, finding it utterly delightful after the last few days when she had been locked away in that small room with several other women, awaiting the auction. She had made friends with those ladies, of course, the distress of the present and fear of the future drawing them together as they might not have been under more usual circumstances. There had been Mary Hampton, a stout lady's maid, bluff and matter-of-fact; Emily Twining, a lady of her own age, but pale and drawn, with a tendency toward sudden tears; and Antoinette De Villiers, a French girl of Elizabeth's age, who had been on her way to be wedded to an official on Martinique when her ship was taken. Harry wondered where they all were now, and the contentment faded from her face thinking about it.

"Having second thoughts, Lady Fanshawe?"

She looked up at the Captain, a little startled that he had managed to approach her without her noticing, due to her abstraction. She straightened, and said, "Why no, not at all. I…was just thinking of…of some of the other ladies who were sold at the auction. The ones I was held with, you know."

He leaned on the rail next to her. "It's a hard truth that you can only do so much in this world. Best not to think about it too much."

"Yes, I know. One does the best one can, and that's all that can be expected, I suppose." She looked up at him, hesitating a little, but then asked bluntly, "Do you ever take women to be sold at the auction?"

"No."

"I thought you would not," she said, satisfaction in her voice.

"That's not to say I wouldn't hold one for ransom, mind. A dowager duchess would fetch a tidy sum, for example."

"Oh. But you wouldn't harm a lady, I think."

"Depends on what you mean by 'harm', don't it?" he said, eyes alight with mischief.

She pursed her lips, and shook her head at him, her own eyes twinkling with laughter.

He smiled down at her and said, "Come then, I'll show you around the ship."

She allowed him to tuck her hand in his arm and they walked slowly all around and down into the depths of the _Pearl_. He spoke about his ship all the while, in obviously loving detail, reintroducing her to various crewmembers as they came upon then, and answering her many questions, which he didn't seem to find entirely stupid, rather to her relief.

"You can have the run of the ship for the most part, but I'd prefer you stay out of the crew's quarters of course."

"It's very kind of you to give up your cabin to Elizabeth and me. The sacrifice is most appreciated! I don't think I've slept so well since I left England."

He smiled. "Well, it's not as great a sacrifice as you'd imagine. I'm still not altogether used to sleeping in a bed, and in such grand setting. For ten years the most I had was a berth, or a hammock, and some of the time it was just the deck and the stars."

"The deck and the stars," she repeated. "That sounds rather nice, actually. With maybe a blanket and several pillows, of course."

"Ah. And someone to keep you company, maybe?" he said, suggestively.

"Maybe," she agreed, a smile in her voice. "I feel sure Elizabeth would enjoy it, too."

"Oh," he said, and sounded so crestfallen that she had to laugh.

They had climbed the quarterdeck stairs and were approaching the poop deck when Owens popped up from where he'd been scraping paint and looked down at the two, intending to greet them.

"Owens!" said Jack, "Why didn't you serve at breakfast today? We missed you!"

But strangely, Owens' friendly expression had suddenly faded to shock as he looked at Harry. The boy grew quite pale, a crease forming between his brows.

"What ails you, boy?" asked Jack in surprise, looking from his Cabin Boy to the Dowager Duchess, who looked quite charmingly in the morning sunlight, he thought. Then something occurred to him and he turned back to Owens, frowning.

Owens began to babble, "I…it's nothing, sir! I'm sorry! Good morning to you and your lady…I…I have to go." And with that he pounded down the steps of the poop deck, quarter deck, and down into the bowels of the ship.

Harry looked up at Jack. "Do you know what all that was about?" she demanded, for she suspected from his expression that he did.

He had been watching Owens as the boy had run off, a frown on his face, and he said slowly, "I think maybe I do." He looked down at her. "He's only been with us since Santo Cristobal. Asked us to take him on, as his mum and dad had died in some plague a year ago and he'd been workin' for the Mayor's wife to earn his keep. Once we got him on the ship we found she'd been beatin' him pretty regular—he was half covered with bruises, old and new. That's her dress you're wearing, and I think seein' it on you startled him a bit."

She stared at him. "She…and you…you gave me her dresses to wear?"

He frowned at her accusing tone. "Well, I didn't think it would…I expect he'll grow used to seein' you in them."

She stiffened. "No, you didn't think, did you? And no, he won't grow used to it!" And she turned and flounced off down the quarterdeck stairs, disappearing in the direction of his cabin.

He stared after her, half annoyed at being made to feel guilty for something he'd only meant to be a kindness, and half wondering what this most unusual representative of the aristocracy had it in her mind to do.

This was soon revealed. Less than an hour later she reappeared on deck, dressed in her old gown, and came up the stairs again. Owens, who had come back up to the poopdeck to resume his work after an apologetic nod to his Captain, looked over the railing at her and stared in surprise.

"Captain Sparrow," said Harry, formally, "I wonder if you could spare your Cabin Boy for a few minutes. I have need of him."

"Is that so, Lady Fanshawe?" said Jack. "And just why would that be?"

Harry sighed, exasperated. "I have a question to put to him, but it must be done in the cabin. If you'd be so kind?"

Jack looked at Owens, who was peering down at the Dowager Duchess, puzzled and a little suspicious. "Very well, Lady Fanshawe," said Jack. "But I'll come too, if you don't mind. Or even if you do."

She frowned. "There's no need for you to come!"

"Oh? And just what would you be wanting with my Cabin Boy that you need such privacy?"

Owens reddened at this comment, and Harry looked daggers at Jack. "What a thing to say! Very well, come then! If you please, Owens?"

Jack nodded to the boy, and Owens hesitantly rose and followed in Lady Fanshawe's wake. Jack came along behind them.

When they reached the Captain's Cabin and went in, Owens stopped dead. "Lady…what's this?"

All of the senora'sdresses, some dozen in all, were laid out, covering every surface with bright color, texture, lace and ribbons.

"I understand that these dresses belonged to your former mistress, Owens. Is that not correct?" said Harry briskly.

"Aye, ma'am." Owens stared at the dresses, a few of them bringing to the surface memories he'd sooner have kept well-buried.

Harry, watching his expression, said gently, "I am very sorry to have upset you by wearing one this morning, but you may be sure I will not do so in future. But I wanted you to tell me, did you see her in all these dresses, or are there perhaps one or two which you never saw her wear? I would not put you through looking at them closely except that I have only this one dress to my name at the moment and it would be as well to have at least one more to change into, if possible. But I will not wear any that you have seen her in."

Owens stared at Lady Fanshawe. "Lady, you…you must not! Not for me! I…I'm sorry I…but you must not! The Captain gave these to you."

"Nevertheless, I won't wear any that you've seen the señora wear. And if you won't tell me if any are not included among those, I'll just pack the whole lot up again."

Owens turned to Jack, almost despairingly, but Jack shook his head.

"Just tell her what she wants to know, lad, and be quick about it."

Owens drew himself up, resigning himself, and walked around the room looking carefully at each dress. He finally pointed to two of the simpler ones, one of pale yellow with an embroidered bodice, the other of white with tiny pink flowers dotting the fine material. "She never wore these two, that I can remember. She liked the deeper colors. And then there's this one." The boy walked to the table where the gold brocade gown was laid out. "She'd just got this one from Spain, and hadn't had a chance to wear it yet, I think."

"So there are three!" said Harry. "This is most excellent. Four dresses are certainly enough for any lady, I vow. Thank you, Owens."

"But Lady Fanshawe!" said Owens, visibly upset, "You can't mean you won't wear the others! My mum…she would've given her eye teeth to wear any of 'em!"

Harry came up to the boy and took his hands. She said, rather ruefully, "My dear, I know I am sadly spoiled and do not value my beautiful things as much as I should, perhaps, but I assure you your mother would have felt exactly as I do about these dresses. Now, no more objections if you please. I have quite made up my mind. I shall keep the three, and pack up the others. Captain Sparrow can sell them when he gets the opportunity. They should fetch a good price, and perhaps the money could go to you as a sort of recompense." She cocked a slim brow at Jack.

"Aye, that's a good idea," said Jack, regarding the Dowager Duchess with a bemused smile.

She nodded, satisfied, and turned away to begin packing up the señora's dresses.

Jack grinned, and said to Owens, "Come on, lad. It appears we're dismissed from the Presence." He turned and ushered his Cabin Boy out the door.


	11. Swordplay

**Chapter 11: _Swordplay_**

"These are beautiful swords!"

"Aunt! What are you doing?"

Harry had taken a sword from the rack on the wall of Jack's cabin, pulled it smoothly from its inlaid scabbard, and took a couple of experimental swipes through the air with it.

"Just looking at it, dear. You know, your Uncle George taught me fencing, a little, before I was married."

"Did he?" said Elizabeth, worriedly. "But Aunt, I don't think…I mean…"

"What?" Harry looked up at her niece.

Elizabeth frowned. "I, too, would like to learn to fight with a sword," she said, seriously, "And Will has promised he'll teach me after we're married. But really, do you think you should be handling Jack's swords?"

"Why not?" Harry said. She set the scabbard on the floor and took down a second sword, offering it to Elizabeth. "Odds are he'll never know, anyway. Come! I'll show you what I know!"

Elizabeth, after only a little hesitation, took the proffered sword and carefully pulled it from its sheath. "It's heavier than I thought it would be," she commented, lifting it and turning so that the blade reflected the afternoon light. She and her aunt had taken a nap after the excellent luncheon they'd enjoyed with Will and Jack. She had thought she'd have trouble regaining her energy, for she was unused to naps and she had felt quite lethargic on awakening. However, the prospect of illicit swordplay with her mischievous relative sent the blood rushing through her veins.

"Yes," Harry agreed, "this one's heavy too. Does Anamaria use a shortsword or a cutlass?"

"I believe she uses a knife, more than anything, but she can probably use swords like these, too. She's very strong, for her size."

"I daresay it only takes practice. _En garde!_"

Elizabeth laughed.

They had been practicing for about ten minutes, and Elizabeth was increasingly impressed with her aunt's grasp of the art, when the door opened and Jack walked in. Elizabeth gasped, taking in the expression on his face, and backed away from her aunt, looking guilty, but Harry turned to the pirate, her brows lifting.

"You didn't knock!" she exclaimed, accusingly.

"I didn't knock because I heard the damned swords!" Jack said, angrily. "What the devil do you think you're doing?"

"Why is it," Harry said tartly, "that you may use profanity, and yet object to _my_ doing so? It is most unfair!"

"Because I'm a bloody pirate, I'm the Captain of this ship, and I'd defy a saint to refrain from swearin' when dealin' with you!" He had come over as he'd spoken, and now took her wrist and removed the sword from her grasp. "No, you may _not_ use my swords!"

With a little roll of eyes, Elizabeth handed hers over too, and retired to sit on the bed, well away from the confrontation.

Harry said haughtily, "We were doing them no damage, I assure you. If you are sensible, you and Will will give us some lessons. What if we have the opportunity to board a ship, or are boarded ourselves?"

Jack seethed. "You know good and well we'll not be doin' any raiding while you're on the ship, but on the off chance there's trouble you and Elizabeth will get straight down to the bilges, where I showed you this morning, and you'll stay there!"

"Oh, how very poor spirited! And what if we are found, and forced to fight anyway? It's always possible!"

"Oh, bloody hell," Jack muttered, He turned away from her, went to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down facing her, his arms crossed, fuming, contemplating exactly what he'd like to do to Harry—what he _would_ do to her, if her niece wasn't in the cabin to object.

Then Will entered the open door of the cabin, took in the tense scene and demanded, "What's happened?"

Jack, his eyes still on Harry, snapped, "The ladies were havin' a duel, just now--using my swords!"

"Ah!" Will said. "Well, I can see why you'd object: these are really too heavy for them."

"Is that all you have to say?" demanded Jack.

Will looked surprised. "Well, I'd planned to start teaching Elizabeth as soon as we married anyway. This might be a good time to start, though. Didn't you say it was four days to St. Claire?"

Elizabeth, blessing her sensible betrothed, said, "Aunt Harry is really quite knowledgeable already," Elizabeth said. "My Uncle George taught her a great deal!"

Harry, who had been watching Jack, a little crease between her brows, now approached him, ignoring the narrowed eyes and thinned line of his mouth as she did so. "I am sorry you were…unpleasantly surprised. Indeed, I assure you we were being careful."

_Unpleasantly surprised_, Jack thought, studying the now contrite expression on Harry's face. _Scared_ was more like it--and she knew it! God's teeth, he'd known her less than twenty-four hours! What was she to him, that he was so concerned for her welfare he'd actually lost his temper? Something he hadn't done in months! And the things he'd been thinking he wanted to do to her…well, they were not evidence of indifference, that was certain. He frowned at his own absurdity, and shifted uncomfortably on the chair.

He said in a milder tone: "What about the skirts: you should've had 'em tucked up. You'll be tripping on 'em."

"Yes, you are right. I wore boy's clothing when George taught me. My governess was quite appalled."

"I can imagine she was. It's not the sort of activity usually associated with gently bred females. But I daresay you plagued the life out of your brother 'til he agreed to teach you."

She chuckled, but said, "Well, no, I didn't have to. He is rather different to Elizabeth's father—something of a loose screw, in fact. I quite worshiped him when I was a girl. He wasn't home much: he lived in London during the season, and traveled a great deal. But when he did come home, we had the greatest fun together!"

Jack's mouth quivered against a smile, thinking of her as she must have been then. "All right," he said, at last. He rose to his feet, and glanced over at Will. "If you're agreeable we'll meet topside: there's more room there. I'll get some swords from the arms chest. Tuck your skirts well up, ladies." He looked down at Harry, who was smiling up at him, her eyes warm. He reached out and briefly touched the rose-petal cheek, then turned and strode from the cabin, leaving two ecstatic ladies and one bemused gentleman behind.


	12. Under the Stars

**Chapter 12: _Under The Stars_**

After dinner, which Harry declared to be as fine as any she'd ever had in London, to Anatole's immense gratification, Jack took his guests topside to enjoy the fine evening weather. The sky was ablaze with stars, in spite of the waxing moon, and the breeze was soft and sea-scented.

Most of the crew was sitting in a group on the deck, drinking, and singing, and telling stories. As their Captain and his guests approached, conversation faded.

Gibbs stood and bowed politely to the ladies. "Evenin' your Ladyship, Miss Elizabeth. You're both lookin' mighty chipper tonight. Fencing practice agrees with you both, I see." Gibbs's eyes twinkled at Jack, who grimaced, though his eyes smiled.

"Indeed it does!" agreed Lady Henrietta. "I can't remember when I've had so much fun. Your Captain is most knowledgeable, and Mr. Turner is a truly exceptional swordsman. Elizabeth and I have learned a great deal already!"

"Aye, young Will is a devil with a sword," said Gibbs. "The crew's had some good times watchin' and wagerin' when he and the Captain take it into their heads to do a bit of practice. I've won quite a bit, putting my money on the lad. No offense, Captain." Gibbs gave Jack a teasing look.

Jack eyed his henchman, shaking his head. "Don't bet against me in a real fight, Gibbs. The whelp is still too fond of his 'rules of engagement'."

"Oh, I don't know," Gibbs said, grinning at Will. "From what I hear he did pretty well during that last little tiff with Barbossa's men at the Isla de Muerta, not to mention at your execution."

"Aye, well. He did manage to throw off the shackles of civility briefly, didn't he?" Jack smiled, glancing at Will with approval and thanks. Will smiled back, his eyes warm. "But enough of playin' _Bait The Captain_," Jack continued, a slight edge to his voice as he turned back to Gibbs. "Got any stories or songs fit for the ladies' ears? Have to keep 'em entertained, y'know."

"How about the song Miss Elizabeth taught you on the island, Jack? Has Lady Fanshawe heard that one?"

"I have not!" said the Dowager Duchess. She turned to Elizabeth, brows raised.

Elizabeth said, "Oh no! Not unless everyone sings along with me!"

They did. Gibbs, who had a fine baritone voice, began it, and the others joined in promptly. Lady Harry listened to the words, her face alight with amusement.

**_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me._**

We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.  
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot,  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.

We extort, we pilfer, we filch, and sack,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.  
Maraud and embezzle, and even high-jack,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.

We kindle and char, inflame and ignite,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.  
We burn up the city, we're really a fright,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.

We're rascals, scoundrels, villains, and knaves,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.  
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.  
  
**_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me._**

We're beggars and blighters, ne'er-do-well cads,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.  
Aye, but we're loved by our mommies and dads,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!

"That was wonderful!" Harry exclaimed, laughing and clapping her hands. "Where on earth did you learn that, Elizabeth?"

"My groom in England taught it to me. He told me it would be something to remember him by, when I left with Father for Jamaica. He knew how I loved hearing stories about pirates. Father didn't like me singing it, of course, and I remember Mr. Gibbs disapproved strongly as well." She looked at Gibbs accusingly, her eyes laughing.

Gibbs said, his own eyes twinkling, "Bad luck to be singin' about pirates, Missy. Look where it's landed you!"

"Among friends!" Elizabeth said, smiling at him.

"Aye, well. That's how it ended up, didn't it, sure enough?" Gibbs turned his eye on Harry. "P'rhaps Lady Fanshawe could give us a story. I'm sure she knows lots of interestin' bits about the nobs in ol' London."

Harry laughed again, coloring slightly. "The nobs are not nearly as interesting as you'd think," she said, looking around at the group of pirates, who had likely each seen more adventure in their lives than any ten members of polite society combined. "I'll tell you a little story about Elizabeth's father though."

Harry sat down gracefully, cross-legged on the deck between Owens and Gibbs, her skirts billowing about her, to the pirates' fascination. They had never imagined a member of the English aristocracy could be so approachable, although there was also something about the Dowager Duchess that inspired the deference due a lady, in spite of her easy ways.

Sitting very straight, and using her hands to illustrate her story, much as Jack himself did, she said: "A few of you, including Elizabeth, may have heard me complain a little of my brother's stuffiness. He is indeed rather…conservative in thought, shall we say?…much more so than my brother George, Viscount Layton. George is fifteen years older than I, and a bit of a rake. I loved him very dearly, but he was not at home as much as Weatherby. So when I made my debut into society it was Weatherby who guided my steps, though I did not feel as thankful to him as I should have at the time. He was ever reminding me to behave like a lady." Harry gave a sidelong glance at Jack, who was standing by the rail of the ship, watching her. She saw him trying not to smile, and gave a little chuckle herself. "It seemed a lost cause to him at times, I'm sure," she continued, "for I was a little headstrong, having been much indulged as the youngest in the family, and a girl besides. However, he persevered, and I ended by being very thankful to him indeed. I did nothing really scandalous, only the usual scrapes: racing my horse in the park; losing too much money at cards; running up a dreadful debt at my dressmakers. But I also fancied myself in love with a most inappropriate man at one point. He was a great rake, nearly twice my age, and I thought him the most romantic gentleman of my acquaintance. He reminded me of my brother George, I think. And he was very handsome—almost the handsomest man I'd ever met!" Harry gave Jack a considering look at this point, but then turned back to her audience. "At any rate, he was still received at that time and I met him everywhere! He soon became aware of my interest, for I watched him like a smitten schoolgirl: dreadfully embarrassing to look back on, I assure you. Toward the middle of the season I began to meet him clandestinely, just to walk with him in the park, you know, or find places where we could be alone at parties. And then I received an invitation to a costume ball, to be held at the estate of one of my schoolmate's families. The estate is magnificent, done in the baroque style—very ornate, all marble and gold—and there were the prettiest gardens attached, with a summerhouse and any number of beautiful places to be alone with one's love. It also had a fishpond.

"Weatherby did not want me to attend. He said that even the most staid persons will do shocking things when given a mask and domino to wear. Which is the truth, of course, but at that time I was disinclined to admit it. I dearly wanted to attend the party, not only because I wanted to see the wonderful home of my dear friend, but because I knew my rakish gentleman would be there. I found the idea of a flirtation in a moonlit garden immensely appealing. And so, after Weatherby went off to his club that night, I put on my mask and domino and went out to where a hackney coach was waiting for me, ordered up by my chambermaid, whom I had coerced quite shamefully. Off to the ball!

"The place was hung with hundreds of yards of blue silk, in honor of my friend who was fashionably fair. There was a superb buffet dinner served, and champagne flowed like water. I indulged quite freely, and it went down very easily after the first few sips. And the gardens! They were hung with colored paper lanterns, from China, and the moon lit everything as well, and the air smelled of cut grass and roses. It was all quite, quite perfect.

"Except for the behavior of my would-be lover. He had always lived in debt, though this was not to be wondered at: besides being rakish, he was the third son of a baronet, and his pockets were always to let! But lately his embarrassments had grown too numerous to be ignored, and he had decided, since I seemed willing, that he would marry me. Now he and I both knew that Weatherby disliked him exceedingly. He was also aware that my brother George would never countenance our marriage either, though that would have surprised me at the time. At any rate, he decided the best way to help himself to my fortune would be to...ah..._have his way with me_, in the garden that night, knowing that I must marry him then or be ruined socially. He very nearly succeeded, too, although you may be sure I made the strongest objections when I realized what he was about.

"But then Weatherby was there! After returning home from his club to find me gone, he'd borrowed a mask and domino from George's room and had come hot-foot to drag me from the place, willing or no. He found me in the garden trying to fight off my erstwhile lover.

"It ended pretty quickly. Weatherby grabbed him off me, gave him an effective blow to his beautifully aquiline nose, and threw him in the fishpond, which was at hand. He looked extremely funny, standing there dripping, with waterweeds hanging about him, fingering his sore nose. I never saw him again after that night: difficult to put aside a truly embarrassing moment like that, I suppose. He retired to the country for a space, and by the time he'd returned to London I was married to Charles Fanshawe, Duke of Wyndham.

"Weatherby and I left the party by way of a side gate, without taking leave of our hostess, and he took me home. And do you know, he never said a word to me about it? I thanked him, of course, when we were coming away in the carriage, but he only glared at me. But the next day, when I was a bit the worse for all the champagne I'd had, he said only that perhaps he should teach me to defend myself somewhat against unwanted advances. And he did! So, indeed, although I called him an 'old woman' last night, and we do tend to grate on each other's nerves when we meet, he is a good brother. Perhaps we'll get along better, now that we're both older," Harry ended, hopefully, smiling at Elizabeth. "And now I believe I've bored you all long enough," she concluded, glancing around at her audience.

But they did not look bored at all.

"I wish I could see a house and garden like that," said Owens beside her, wistfully. "Have you been anyplace like that, Captain?"

"Once or twice," he said. "And then there's the places I've been in foreign parts: Spain, and Italy, India and China and all." He walked around to Harry, and Gibbs made room so his Captain could sit down next to the Dowager Duchess.

Elizabeth and Will sat a little apart on the opposite side of the circle, watching Jack for a long time as he wove stories of places they'd only read of in books, and adventures they'd only dreamed, and neither they, nor Harry, nor the crew cared whether the tales were true or had sprung from Jack's very lively imagination.


	13. Second Morning

**Chapter 13: _Second Morning_**

****

Elizabeth awoke before her aunt the next morning. The girl lay there, silently studying her kinswoman's face in the morning light. In sleep, the faintly supercilious expression the lady often wore was gone, and she looked very young and innocent. She had an almost childish prettiness about her even at thirty, and Elizabeth expected it had been a source of great annoyance to her aunt when she was emerging from girlhood and trying to take her place in polite society, and had looked even younger than she did now. Over the years the lady had learned tricks of expression and carriage that lent her appearance a certain dignity—unless she set these aside, or forgot them, as she had during the fencing lesson the day before.

Or last night, when she'd begun to nod off during Jack's third story. She'd drooped against him, waking with a wide-eyed start when she'd brushed up against his arm.

"Not boring you, am I?" Jack had asked, looking down his nose at her, though his eyes had been soft.

Her aunt had straightened abruptly, looking very much disconcerted. "N-no! I'm sorry!" She'd looked around the circle of faces, and reddened. Glancing at Jack, she'd said: "Go on please!" and had managed to stay awake until the end of the story, but then had excused herself, rising a little awkwardly. Elizabeth had started to get up, too, but subsided again as Jack had got up and taken her Aunt's arm, and escorted the lady back across the deck and down to the cabin. By the time he got back, Gibbs was well into another tale.

Elizabeth frowned a little, thinking that Jack and her aunt were getting along quite well, in spite of the occasional contretemps. Perhaps too well. She had a feeling her father would not approve.

"What are you frowning about, my dear?"

The sleepy voice of her aunt nudged Elizabeth from her musings. "Nothing, Aunt! I mean…I was thinking about the story you told last night."

"Oh," said Harry. She turned onto her back, taking a deep breath of cool morning air. "Rather scandalous, was it not? Perhaps I shouldn't have told it. Still, it put your father in a good light, which was the whole point, after all."

"Was it? That was kind of you. It didn't precisely redound to your credit, though."

Harry chuckled. "No. But I did redeem myself by marrying well, so it all came right in the end. I doubt if our pirate friends were in the least shocked. Pretty tame stuff, when set beside the things they've likely done."

"Yes," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "Aunt: what happened to the…ah…gentleman involved? Did you ever see him again?"

"Yes, I did, actually. He tried to blackmail me about a year after I was married."

"What?" exclaimed Elizabeth. "The villain! How?"

"Threatened to tell Charles of my unmaidenly behavior that night, although he had planned to make it sound even worse than it was. You understand me, I daresay."

"Good God. What did you do?"

"Well, after thinking about it, and shedding a few tears over it, I worked up the courage to tell Charles what had happened."

"And? Did he believe you?"

"Yes. He had, after all, been there on our wedding night. A fact I should have remembered before I became so blue-deviled about my fine villainous gentleman's threat. Charles was rather amused, in fact. He suggested that, if the fellow bothered me again, I should tell him I'd spread the entertaining little story of his swim in the fishpond to a few select mothers of eligible daughters."

"It worked?"

"Oh, yes. It's quite amazing how valuable little tidbits of truthful information can be, when they're about the right people." Harry looked over at her niece. "Norrington, for example."

Elizabeth stared. "Norrington? James Norrington! What about him?" The girl studied her aunt's face, her brows drawing together. "You know something about him!"

Harry smiled impishly. "I do. I hadn't thought of it in years, but when you spoke of him yesterday it came back to me."

"Tell me!" Elizabeth said, feeling quite wicked.

Harry eyed her niece, thoughtfully. "If I do," she said, finally, "you must not tell anyone! Do you promise?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Norrington is a decent man, after all, and I would only use the information in the gravest need."

Elizabeth thought about this. Then she said softly, "Jack?"

Harry's lips curved in a mischievous smile. "Perhaps."

If her aunt knew something scandalous about Norrington, it was possible the Commodore could be…_persuaded_ to let Jack go if he were caught another time. "Tell me!" Elizabeth said again.

"Well, it was a piece of very ill luck, really, resulting from the indulgence of youthful high spirits." Harry chuckled at Elizabeth's expression of disbelief. "James wasn't always as staid as he is apparently is at present, you know! He is only a little older than I, and we frequented the same circles, until he obtained his commission. This had just taken place, in fact, and he was having a farewell dinner with his friends, to celebrate. I daresay they imbibed a little too freely. One of them made a wager with him that involved holding up the coach of one of their relatives on Hounslow Heath, in the guise of highwaymen. So foolish! But he was persuaded to do it, only, in the event, they stopped the wrong coach! It was an elderly gentleman, in a coach very like the relative's, and the poor old fellow was so upset he was seized with an apoplexy right there in the road! What a dreadful to-do! When James realized what had happened, he tried to help the old gentleman, although the rest of James's friends loped off as fast as their horses would carry them! We could see their retreat, over the rise of a hill, when my aunt--your Great Aunt Elizabeth--and I came up to the scene in our coach. We were on the way to a ball being held some distance from London. I ordered our coachman to stop—Aunt Elizabeth was not at all pleased! Fortunately she didn't recognize James, but I did, almost immediately: he had let the scarf slip half off his face in his distress about the old gentleman. He knew us, too. I told him we would take care of the old man, see that he was transported to Barham, the next town along the road, and a doctor called. James rode off, then, and I daresay the incident put him off drink for life! The old man, you see, was none other than Admiral Greenway's Uncle—his favorite uncle! And he was never the same after that night: he never regained the use of his left side, and still speaks with a slur. He's survived, though, and is even seen in public occasionally. But if Greenway knew that James was involved--well, he would not have been appointed Commodore, believe me!"

"Good heavens, Aunt! It seems so unlike James!"

"I can imagine it does," said Harry, "considering what you have told me of him. But you may depend upon it: even the most respectable of gentlemen have done ridiculous things in their salad days. As I said, it was just ill luck that this prank had such disastrous results."

"Ill luck indeed," Elizabeth said, thoughtfully. "But…not for Jack."

Harry smiled. "No. Not for Jack."

o-o-o

Cook had again extended himself in preparing breakfast. He stood beaming as they began to serve themselves.

Lady Harry commented: "If I keep eating like this, I'll soon fit into those new dresses of mine without any alterations being made! It is most excellent, Monsieur Anatole!"

The others voiced similar compliments, and Anatole left the cabin with a distinctly smug expression on his face.

After breakfast, Will took Elizabeth up to "take the air", but Jack lingered in the cabin a few minutes more, conversing with the Dowager Duchess. Finally, however he pushed back his chair.

"I'd better go make certain Anamaria hasn't got us off course," he said.

"I wonder what Anamaria would say to this slur against her navigational skills?" Harry mused.

Jack grinned. "Probably'd hit me."

Harry laughed. "You just can't bear to relinquish the helm to anyone for very long!"

"That's true enough. Come up to the quarterdeck: I'll give you a taste of it."

"I'd like that! I will, later—I'm determined to make myself useful this morning. Gibbs brought me things to repair and alter my dresses, so I'm going to stay here and do some sewing."

"You can sew something besides samplers, then?" Jack asked, surprised.

"Oh, yes. I hated that, when I was a girl. I finally told my governess I'd not place another stitch unless she'd show me how to sew proper clothing as well. I knew she could: she made all her own dresses, which saved her a great deal of money." Harry lifted her chin a little at Jack's skeptical look. "You don't believe me? I assure you, I can do all manner of useful things—I can even cook a little!"

"Can you? What else?" Jack sat down again, and poured himself another mug of coffee.

"Well, I learned to run a household after I married Charles."

"With a pack of servants at your beck and call, no doubt!"

Harry bridled a little at this. "Well, you don't sail a ship by yourself, either, do you? You have no notion what the running of a great country house requires!"

"No, I don't suppose I do," he admitted.

"No. Well, it's a great deal more difficult than you might imagine. I was quite happy to give over the reins to my cousin's wife when Charles cocked up his heels."

Jack's lifted a brow, suppressing a chuckle. "Broke yer heart, did it?"

She hesitated very slightly, then said, bluntly, "No."

She did not elaborate, and there seemed to be nothing to say to this, at least at the moment.

He changed the subject. "So what is it you're planning to do at St. Claire?"

"Chuck Monty off the island and take over the management of the plantation myself!" she said. "I feel sure I'll be able to do better than he has. I have made inquiries: we should have been making more of a profit. It is a very fine property, and I've no doubt with good management everyone on the island can live well and happily."

"Even the slaves?" said Jack. Harry frowned a little. Jack spread his hands. "Just askin'!"

She sighed. "To tell you the truth, I am hoping to be able to free them. There is a groundswell of anti-slavery sentiment in England, you know."

"So I've heard. But England's a long way from the Caribbean."

"I know. You may imagine how anxious I am to reach the island, and see how things stand."

"Aye, I can. I hope it's worth the small fortune you're payin' us to take you there."

"Oh, there's no question of that, Captain Sparrow. It's worth every cent."


	14. Pulling Caps

**Chapter 14: _Pulling Caps_**

****

Late that afternoon, Jack went looking for Harry and found her, after a search lengthy enough to try his patience, in the fo'c'sle with some of the men, learning a lively and very bawdy shanty, her high, clear voice blending merrily with their lower tones. The men's voices faded abruptly as their Captain entered and approached the group, his dark eyes stormy with disapproval. Harry stopped singing too, and looked up at him, raising a brow in some surprise.

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse us," he said, taking her arm and pulling her to her feet. She smiled her thanks to the men, then allowed herself to be drawn a little roughly from the area, and up to the main deck.

At the first opportunity, he snapped, "I'm lookin' all over the ship for you and here you are playin' the hoyden again!"

He let her go, and she went to lean against the railing, studying him thoughtfully. She said lightly, but with an edge, "Do you know, for a pirate, I find you amazingly prudish! But pray do not blame your men! I heard them singing and asked them to teach it to me."

"I know exactly who's to blame, my girl. Didn't I tell you not to go into the crew's quarters?"

"No, you did not. You told me you would _prefer_ I didn't, but that's not at all the same thing."

"Well, now I'm tellin' you: you will bloody stay out of there! They're good men and I'd hate to have to chuck any of 'em overboard for layin' a hand on you."

"Oh, they wouldn't!" she protested.

"No, likely not, but no use leadin' 'em into temptation, as it were. And," he added severely, "don't let me hear you singing that song again."

"May I sing it when you're out of earshot?"

"Don't sing it at all!" he snapped, thoroughly exasperated. "First thing we know you'll be singing it for your brother, and he'll lay the blame at _my_ door!"

"Oh, no. He'll know exactly who to blame, too," she assured him.

He scowled at her. "_Don't_ go into the crews quarters, and _don't_ sing that song!" He started to turn away, but out of the corner of his eye he caught her making a rude face at him. He slowly turned back, glaring down at her now innocent countenance, and trying not to laugh. "You, my girl, are going to catch it hot one day soon."

"Am I?" she inquired, interested.

"Aye. If you don't end up across my knee being given what-for before the end of this voyage I, for one, will be truly amazed!"

She raised her brows in polite incredulity, "You know, you seem to have a fondness for saying that sort of thing to me, but frankly I don't believe you'd ever do it. Of course, if you did I'd have to slip that knife between your ribs, which would be a shame as I find you very amusing."

"Amusing!"

"Yes. You are not at all stupid: one can actually have a conversation with you and not be bored to tears, or have to explain oneself. Most refreshing, I assure you."

He studied her for a long moment, a slow smile lighting his eyes. "Well, let me return the compliment, Lady Fanshawe," he said, and, with a mocking bow, turned to go.

Which was not at all what she wanted! Dismayed at his imminent departure, she blurted, "But wait!" He turned back to her, a quizzical gleam in his eye, and she felt her cheeks coloring. "Why were you looking for me before?"

"I was goin' to ask you if you wanted to learn a bit more swordplay."

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed, "do let's! Don't be angry with me anymore!" she cajoled, coming up to him and catching his coat sleeve with shy fingers. "I promise not to do anything you wouldn't like for…oh…several hours at least!"

He laughed at that, and said, "Good God, what a baggage you are!"

She chuckled. "Yes, Captain Sparrow. Anything you like! But come! Where are the swords?"


	15. After His Own Heart

**Chapter 15: _After His Own Heart_**

****

Dinner was once again a delightful affair, with Jack telling tales that kept the others hovering between awe and laughter. Afterwards, Harry wanted to go on deck again with the crew, as they had the night before, but Jack, wishing to give his crew the freedom to socialize without the restraint they necessarily felt around the ladies, suggested that the four of them play cards instead. Will and Elizabeth agreed, so Harry gave in with a good grace.

Jack and Harry, who were partners, won the first game resoundingly, which rather surprised Will and Elizabeth who had been playing with the Governor and his guests for some months and had become practiced and proficient players. It was during the second game that Jack noticed with a slight start of surprise that Harry was cheating. Very sly she was about it too, her face a picture of innocence. He caught her a second time, and she happened to glance up at him after doing so. He raised an eyebrow in humorous acknowledgment and warning, but she only smiled a little, her eyes twinkling. He then twitched his brows together, but she tilted her chin at him, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing, and dealt out the hand. He widened his eyes and gave a grimace of acceptance, and proceeded to join her in this very improper activity. Harry noticed quickly, and peeped up at him from under her lashes, her eyes brimming with laughter. He smiled crookedly. The hand played out, and they won the game, again by a great many points.

But Will, looking from one to the other as Harry gathered up the cards, said suddenly to Jack: "You cheated!"

"What?" exclaimed Elizabeth, shocked.

"Now, where have I heard that before?" Jack said, his voice shaking with suppressed humor. He gave Harry a speaking look, and she couldn't contain herself any longer but burst out laughing. Jack grinned.

"You _both_ cheated!" exclaimed Will, beginning to laugh now, too.

"Aunt!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you mustn't cheat at cards! It isn't done!"

"Apparently it _is_ done, in the highest circles, as well as the lowest!" said Jack, chuckling.

Harry gasped merrily, "Oh, Elizabeth! You must forgive me! Indeed, I never cheat when playing for money."

"Oh!" said Elizabeth, "Only with family, I suppose!"

"Well, yes, actually. Your father taught me, after all!"

"What? Father!"

"Good lord. How'd that come about?" Jack asked, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

"Well, he didn't want me to be taken for a flat, you know, when I began to attend card parties. So he showed me what to watch for. I found, with a little practice, that it was quite easily done! He was rather put out when I tried it on him the next time the two of us played."

"I should think so!" Elizabeth said. "It is outrageous, Aunt!"

"Oh, you only say so because he never showed you!" Harry smiled. "Would you like to learn? I can teach you—or Captain Sparrow can: he seems very good at it, too."

"It doesn't surprise me that _he_ is," said Elizabeth, still eying Jack and her Aunt with disapproval. "But you!"

Harry only laughed.

Will said to Jack, his own voice full of laughter, "Well, Jack, it looks like you've found a lady after your own heart!"

"Indeed, I think I have!" said Jack, smiling across the table at Harry.

Harry smiled back at him, her eyes merry and full of so much warmth that Elizabeth was a little startled, and looked an inquiry at Will. Will raised a brow and smiled crookedly.

"Well!" said Elizabeth, briskly. "You may show me how it's done, but I refuse to play cards with you any longer unless you both promise not to cheat!"

o-o-o

Later the four went on deck to take the air. Jack stopped to speak with Cotton, who had the wheel, and Harry lingered by his side. Elizabeth and Will walked on around the ship. When they were well away from the three on the quarterdeck, Elizabeth said uncomfortably, "Will, what do you think is between my aunt and Jack? I mean…perhaps it seems worse because I have not gone into society much…but it seems to me she…_they_ are flirting! And quite _outrageously!_"

"That's just occurred to you? They were at it from the first night!"

"Yes. I know that. Aunt told me the next morning that it was a little game between them. But indeed, I think it's gone beyond that. Did you see the look Jack gave her when you said she was a lady after his own heart?"

"Mmmm. And I saw the look she gave back to him, too. But I don't know what can be done about it. Or if anything should be done."

"Will! I like Jack very well: he has many admirable qualities, though I know he'd deny such an accusation. But…"

"But he's a pirate."

"Yes!"

"Somewhat like our situation, isn't it?" said Will, smiling ruefully at her.

She stared, and said, "No, it is not! You are a perfectly respectable tradesman—the finest swordsmith in the Caribbean!"

"I'm a pirate's son, Elizabeth. And you are the daughter of the governor of one of the richest islands in the Caribbean. It's still hard for me to believe you chose me, and that your father has given his consent to our marriage."

"He knows you for a fine man, Will. And he knows you love me."

"More than my life, sweetheart," Will said, kissing her hand. "And of course, my father wasn't always a pirate. I had always thought he was a merchant sailor, until Jack told me otherwise. And Jack wasn't always a pirate, either—I'd bet a… dowager duchess's ransom on it!"

"No, I suppose he can't have been," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "We know very little about him, really."

"We know he's a good man. And he wouldn't take advantage of your Aunt."

"He wouldn't be taking advantage of her, though, would he? Not if she wanted him. And she seems to be accustomed to getting what she wants. How I wish Father were here! He could at least talk to her! I don't feel as though she would listen to me."

"She wouldn't listen to him, either," Will laughed. "Didn't you hear your father speak of her that night when Jack arrived? And the stories she tells of him! She apparently delights in setting up his back. She does so with Jack, too, of course, but he knows how to give as good as he gets, and I don't think your father ever learned that, at least when dealing with her."

"You sound as though you approve of the match!" said Elizabeth, a little upset.

"I don't think it will matter, in the end, whether I or you or anyone else approves. Your aunt is a force unto herself. As is Jack. But he won't hurt her."

Elizabeth sighed. "I know. At least…but there, I suppose we must simply trust in a benevolent Providence, and hope for the best."


	16. Storm

**Chapter 16: _Storm_**

****

The following morning the ladies awoke to find that Providence had provided a storm. The ship shuddered and swayed with the wind and choppy seas, rain lashed against the many-paned windows of the great cabin, and over the course of the morning the swells increased.

Will came in to breakfast at mid-morning, but told them that Jack would not be joining them: he was at the helm, the ship's progress through the rough seas claiming all his attention. Will ate quickly, and left the ladies to a more leisurely meal, although Elizabeth was feeling just a trifle queasy and only drank some tea and nibbled on a piece of toast. Lady Henrietta suggested they occupy themselves with mending, which they did for a while, but the light was very bad and they were limited to one lamp for safety's sake. Elizabeth's nausea worsened with the close work, and the motion of the ship. Her Aunt then suggested that the girl lay down, and she would read to her: Harry had discovered that Jack had a small collection of classics, as well as a _Complete Works of Shakespeare_. Harry read aloud for some time, until Elizabeth fell asleep.

Neither gentleman came in for their midday meal, and Harry finally decided she had had enough of boredom. She rummaged in Jack's things until she found a heavy old cloak to throw on over her dress. Then she quietly left the cabin, leaving Elizabeth to her nap.

The fury of the storm was much more evident in the passageway than it had been in Jack's cabin. The wooden ship creaked alarmingly, wind howling through the rigging, and there was the ever-present booming background noise of the sea itself. It was a little frightening, actually. But Jack and the others were out in the midst of it, and Harry was determined to see what they were doing and how they were faring.

The doors to the companionway were closed against the weather, but she managed to open one enough to slip out onto the deck. Instantly she began to be pelted with cold, blowing rain. She wrapped the cloak more tightly around her and made her way as stealthily and carefully as she could to a secluded spot, which provided not only a little shelter, but a view of Jack at the helm. He looked to be quite enjoying himself, calmly guiding the ship through the rough waters. He shouted orders to his crew occasionally, and they did their best to carry them out while being inundated with rain and sea water, staggering about the deck and clinging to the ropes and railing as the ship pitched and tossed about in the waves. Harry's own clothing was soon soaked, but she felt she could bear it for a while, as the excitement of being out in the elements more than made up for any discomfort she felt.

After a while, however, the cold had seeped into her bones, and she shivered. She thought that if she could just get out of the rain, perhaps under the steps to the quarterdeck near the companionway doors, she would be more sheltered and a little warmer, although she would lose her view of Jack. She began to move back that way. She had just grabbed onto the ladder when the ship gave a tremendous lurch, someone caught her around the waist, and she was born back beneath the overhang and squashed up against the doors.

"What the devil are you doing out here?" Jack roared at her, above the noise of the storm.

"I wanted to see what you were doing! It's very exciting, isn't it?" she shouted back.

He struggled to stand away from her, but the motion of the ship kept preventing him, so he gave it up and settled himself against her, and spoke into her ear in a more normal voice.

"Aye, it is, but you need to get back down to the cabin now. I've enough to do without worrying about you getting swept overboard every half minute."

"Swept overboard?" she exclaimed, looking up at him in surprise and concern. "Then why are you up here? Can't you tie the wheel and wait it out below?"

"That's only done as a last resort—this storm's not near that bad. We'll do fine, but you've no experience with being on deck in this sort of weather, and if you make a wrong move it could be Davy Jones' Locker for you. Now get back to the cabin, like a good lass."

"But it's so dull! We can barely see anything as there's no light, and Elizabeth is a little sick with the motion—she's sleeping now. I shall just stay in that alcove over there, where I was before."

"No, you will not!" he said, his patience wearing thin. "You're soaked to the skin--I can feel you shivering! You'll catch your death. Now stop arguing with me and do as I say. Here!" He managed to stand upright and pulled open one side of the companionway doors. "In you go."

"Oh, bloody hell!" she exclaimed, just to annoy him, then squeaked as he was thrown against her again. She looked up at him, her eyes laughing at his expression. They were so close she wondered suddenly if he might kiss her—she saw that the thought was there, behind his eyes. She looked up hopefully, and her heart gave a little thrill as he bent his face to hers.

But it was only to put his lips to her ear, his breath warm as he said, "That is a very unladylike expression, and you'll please refrain from soiling my virgin ears with it, savvy? Now you get back to the cabin and change out of those clothes so I can think about one of us being warm and dry. I'll be down to dinner after a bit."

He brushed his lips across her cheek as he released her and she looked up at him, aware that she was blushing, and not really caring. "Oh, very well," she said. She sighed in resignation and turned away to slip through the companionway door, but as she did so he gave her soaked backside a single, stinging swat. She gasped, and stiffened, and looked over her shoulder at him. He was looking down at her, obviously pleased with himself. She tilted her chin at him, and retired through the door with cold dignity.

o-o-o

It was much more than a bit before he came down to dinner, but at last, after several hours, the ladies heard Jack and Will coming down the passageway.

Harry opened the door and confronted the two men. "Strip off those wet things--we've put out a change for you both in Will's cabin."

"God's teeth, we're just going to get soaked again!" exclaimed Jack.

"I know, but at least while you eat you can be dry, and a little warmer for a while. Hurry, now! Anatole has made a lovely stew for us, and there is hot tea and grog as well."

"I'm for that," said Will. "Come!" he said to Jack. "You don't want to drip all over your cabin."

Muttering an oath, Jack gave Harry a glare, but then said, in suggestive purr, "Very well. You going to watch?"

Harry chuckled. "In consideration of Will's sensibilities, I'll refrain."

Jack shook his finger at her. "No peekin' through the keyhole!"

"No promises!" retorted Harry. She grinned as she closed the door.

The swells had gown somewhat less, although the rain still came down in buckets. Harry and Elizabeth were able to set out the food and drink without the cups and plates being in danger of sliding off the table. Jack and Will came in at last, after draping their wet clothes over the banisters of the companionway stairs, though there was little hope they'd dry in an hour.

"This does feel better," Will said.

Jack snorted, but then met Harry's laughing eyes and gave a reluctant smile.

She thought he looked very tired already, and there was still a long night ahead.

He was not too tired for teasing, however. He said, slyly, "I see there are no knives laid out. That's a bit of a relief."

"Yes, it is fortunate the _Black Pearl_ has need of you tonight," said Harry, coolly. Elizabeth and Will stared from one to the other, but neither Harry nor Jack elected to elaborate.

The conversation during dinner wandered along less provocative paths, until finally Jack pushed back his plate. He took a long drink of the hot grog, and said, "Well, there's another fortunate thing--besides the lack of knives, I mean." His eyes glinted at Harry, whose own narrowed, one brow arching dangerously. He grinned, and continued. "This storm's blowing us in the right direction. Should bring us to St. Claire a day sooner than I'd expected--day after next, if all goes well."

Harry brightened immediately. "Oh, that is excellent news!" she exclaimed. "I am very much looking forward to seeing the island, and meeting the inhabitants, particularly my nephew. He has much to answer for."

"That's what rumor says," said Jack. "You realize, of course, if he's set himself up as ruler of his own little kingdom, he won't take kindly to interference."

Harry frowned. "He shall have an adjustment to make then: St. Claire belongs to me! And if needed, the Navy will aid me. I've known James Norrington since before he joined. He will grant me this, I think, especially if I bring evidence to support action."

"You know the Commodore!" said Will, surprised.

"Yes. He is only two years older than I, and was on the town when I made my debut. He's risen fast—a talented man, in spite of what you may think after bamboozling him so finely with the _Interceptor_."

"He's a dangerous lad, right enough," said Jack. "But he's honest, too: makes him a bit predictable. I can't think too badly of him, though, after the day's head start he gave me. He knew it was all I needed."

"You're very generous!" Elizabeth commented. "He did nearly succeed in hanging you!" She shuddered, vividly recalling the minutes before Will's illogical but valiant rescue attempt.

"Oh, I wasn't worried," said Jack, blithely. "The best fortune teller in Tangiers once told me I'd die at the hand of a jealous husband at a ripe old age, and I've no reason to doubt her." He smiled at their laughter, and rose. "I'd best get back up there. I'm feeling quite revived by the excellent repast and company." He placed his palms together and bowed slightly. "Many thanks, ladies. And give Anatole my compliments."


	17. And the Calm After

**Chapter 17: _And The Calm After_**

****

Harry woke in the night at the sound of footsteps in the passage. It was very late—or very early! Much closer to dawn than midnight, she guessed. She listened closely, and could hear Jack's voice as he said something to Will, who had come down to the little cabin some hours before. Then there was the sound of the door closing, and then only the faint sounds of the ship and the sea, and Elizabeth breathing softly beside her. The storm was over.

o-o-o

Jack was on deck again before mid-morning. After making a minor adjustment to their course, ordering several of the crew aloft to trim the sails, and sending Owens off to the galley to fetch him some breakfast, Jack wandered forward where Harry was conversing with Anamaria.

"G'morning, ladies," Jack drawled, smiling at them.

"Ain't but one lady here, Sparrow," growled Anamaria. "I'll 'lady' you with the point o' my knife! What the devil are you doing up? We can sail the bloody ship without you for a bit! Go back to bed!"

"What is this feminine obsession for sticking me with a knife?" Jack asked, somewhat put out. "And it's _Captain_ Sparrow! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Captain, then!" Anamaria conceded. "Now go back to bed, Captain! You were at the wheel for near twenty hours yesterday!"

"I was not aware of any alteration in the chain of command aboard this ship," Jack said, voice soft, and eyes slightly narrowed.

Anamaria threw up a hand in the fencer's gesture of defeat, and rolled her eyes at Harry. "Stubborn as a pig. What did I tell you? He'll not be happy till we have to carry him below, dead to the world." She looked at Jack again and sighed at his annoyed expression. "I know, I know. I'll take myself off, _Captain_." She walked away, shaking her head and muttering.

"You do look tired," Harry said, worry evident in her voice.

Jack turned to her, and his expression softened somewhat. "I'll be all right. You look to have slept well."

"I did. As I told you, I love sleeping on a ship."

"Aye. Same way I feel. There's nothing finer than livin' on a ship. And the _Pearl_…well, that kind of freedom's worth nearly any sacrifice. Stayin' up to see her safe through the occasional storm's nothing."

Harry nodded. "Freedom is purchased in many different ways, but it's always worth the price. That's why I married Charles."

"For freedom!"

Harry smiled crookedly at his surprised tone. "I don't suppose you have the least notion how very restricted is the life of a single lady," she said. "I found it quite intolerable, as do many young women. Marriage to Charles gave me freedom. And his death gave me even more."

"Aye. Your brother said you'd lost all sense of constraint when the Duke passed," Jack said, dead-pan, although his eyes laughed.

"Did he?" Harry said, in a tone that boded ill for the absent Governor. She looked at Jack. "Well, it's the same as you with your ship: you are the Captain, she's yours, and damn anyone who gets in your way. That's the way I like it too. Even the very slight societal constraints that I felt as a Dowager Duchess grew to be too much. That's why I came out here. That's why I'm going to St. Claire, and if all goes according to plan, that's why I'll be staying there."

"Depose yer nevvie an' take over the kingdom, eh?"

"The duchy!" Harry corrected him, with a smile and a lifted brow.

Jack laughed. "You're ambitious, I'll give you that. But don't forget: it can be dangerous, and maybe lonely to be lord – or lady – of all you survey."

Harry shrugged. "One handles danger as it comes. Or not. As for loneliness, well, I was never more lonely in my life than when I was married to Charles."

He looked at her, a slight frown in his eyes. "And has it been less so as a widow? I daresay there were any number of bucks willin' to…er…assuage your lonliness, so to speak."

"There were. Another good reason to leave England. God preserve me from dullards!"

He chuckled. "You're very severe!"

"Yes," she acknowledged, quite seriously. "I'll tell you, it would take the devil of a fellow to persuade me to part with my freedom. Any of it." She gave him a nod, lifting a brow, and turned to go.

"A bit of practice with the swords, later?" he asked her before she'd got too far.

She turned, with a smile. "Oh, yes! You, Captain Sparrow, know the way to a lady's heart!"

"Aye," he said, grinning. "I'm the devil of a fellow that way."

She laughed, coloring.

o-o-o

The moon was near the full that night. Jack left the dinner table early to see to some adjustments to their course and other ship's business, and Harry, Elizabeth, and Will stayed on, sipping wine and talking of this and that. Eventually the conversation lagged a bit, due to the tendency of the betrothed pair to lapse into silent, though loving discourse. Harry smiled, a bit crookedly, and said at last: "Elizabeth, Will, if you'll excuse me for a few minutes. I think I shall take a turn around the deck and get some air." They barely noticed when she slipped out the door.

She walked up the stairs to the deck, and over to the rail. There wasn't much wind—a far cry from the previous night!—and the moon lay on the water like a rippling silver path. How very beautiful it was. She stared out, trying to absorb the moment fully, yet all the while listening too, and presently she smiled a little, hearing the familiar sound of booted feet coming toward her on the wood deck.

"Leaving the lovebirds alone for a bit, Lady Fanshawe?" said Jack. He leaned on the rail next to her, looking out at the sea.

She chuckled. "I am. I'm not sure they noticed I left, actually. I felt quite in the way."

He smiled. "I expect so."

"Yes. They are certainly in a world of their own," she agreed. "I have never been 'in love' like that, but Elizabeth assures me the feeling is delightful! It won't harm them to have a few minutes all to themselves in the privacy of your cabin."

"You're a very lax duenna," observed Jack.

"Do you think so?" she said, turning to look at him. "Will can be trusted to keep the line, I think."

"Oh, of course. It's your niece you need to worry about. She'll count no cost. Rather like yourself."

"Like me!" she exclaimed, her eyes laughing. "Now Captain Sparrow, what have I done to give you such an impression? One would think I'd been behaving like some coming, indiscrete schoolroom miss! But I seem to recall that you were the one who kissed me at our first meeting, not the other way 'round."

"Aye, I did," Jack said, remembering.

Something in his expression, in the look in his eyes, made her color slightly and look out at the sea again. She said, trying for a light, teasing tone: "Men have such odd ways! I still can't think why you did it."

Jack gave a snort of derision. He said in a low voice, "What a lot of gammon. You know quite well why I did it then, and why I don't repeat myself now!"

She straightened and turned to face him, leaning against the rail. "No, I don't," she said. "Why?"

He straightened, too, and took her hand, looking down at her. "Very well, Lady Fanshawe," he said, both teasing laughter and a little sadness in his voice. "I did it then because of the part I was playing, of course—and because you were the bonniest lass I'd ever laid eyes on, and maybe the bravest, too. And I won't do it now because I know myself, and it's not likely to stop with kisses."

She stared up at him, quite stunned at this unprecedented honesty.

His eyes twinkled. "Better close your mouth, or you'll be catchin' flies, love."

She did so, flushing deeply, and he took her hand and tucked it under his arm. "Let's take a turn 'round the deck. You can cool your cheeks and practice your disdainful pout."

"Disdainful pout! I don't!" she objected, a little unsteadily.

"Of course you do--when you're not playin' the hoyden, or givin' me that wide-eyed not-up-to-snuff look."

She laughed. "Well, this is the pot calling the kettle black indeed! You with your charming madness, leaving those around you to assume they're dealing with a fool."

"Oh, _charming_, is it?" he said hopefully, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Why, yes. Since we're being honest for a change."

"Mmm. A bit unusual, ain't it?"

"Yes, but refreshing, somehow, don't you think? I daresay we shall resume our little game of teasing and pulling caps presently."

"I daresay," he agreed.

They walked in silence for a while, nodding at Cotton at the wheel as they passed. The mute man smiled benignly at them and the parrot on his shoulder fluffed his feathers a little.

The clouds were growing less all the time, a high wind blowing them across the moon although the breeze down where the _Black Pearl_ rode the waves was light and fair. The ship creaked gently, the air was soft and smelled of the sea, and the stars peeped out brightly, in spite of the nearly full moon.

"You are a fortunate man, Captain Sparrow," Harry said finally. They had made the circuit of the ship and now slowly approached the companionway steps.

"Aye, I am," he acknowledged. "There were times in the last ten years when I doubted it. But my luck held in the end."

"More wits than luck, from what I gather. And nerve."

"Well, I never had a want of nerve. But it was surely luck that brought me to Port Royal the day I met Will and your niece. A very fortuitous occasion, that. Wouldn't have got the _Pearl_ back nearly so soon, otherwise."

"Yes," said Harry. "You have your ship back, and your freedom. And yet you still have James Norrington looking over your shoulder. Have you never considered applying for a Letter of Marque?"

They stopped and he looked down at her. "Turn respectable, you mean? A privateer?"

"Yes. It's my understanding you've been avoiding confrontation with English ships since you got this ship back—why not make it official? Then James would leave you in peace to harass the Spanish and French as much as you please."

"Don't forget the Dutch. And the occasional Portuguese." He smiled. "Oh, I've thought about it a bit. I don't seem like the respectable sort, though, do I? And I really don't want to change, either. Even for you, m'girl."

"Oh, rubbish!" said Harry, briskly. "No one would expect you to change at all. I expect you make far too great an issue of this. A Letter of Marque would only give you more freedom and opportunity for adventure."

He peered down at her discerningly, and she smiled at him, her heart in her eyes. He picked up her hand and kissed her fingers, and murmured, "God you're adorable!" His voice was so low she wasn't sure she heard correctly, but even suspecting she had, her breath caught in her throat. He straightened and squeezed her hand. "I'll consider it, Lady Fanshawe," he said, and Harry could not mistake the warmth of his look. But then he grinned and said, "And now you'd best get back to the cabin, before young William's virtue is compromised."

The spell broken, Harry laughed. "Oh, Lord! I'd forgotten all about them! Good night, Captain Sparrow!" She gave his hand a quick squeeze back as she withdrew her fingers from his grasp, then turned, descended the stairs, and pressed her hands to her cheeks as she walked slowly back down the passageway to the cabin.


	18. St Claire Island

**Chapter 18: _St. Claire Island_**

****

St. Claire Island was a small but rich spot of land in the Caribbean, deeded to the Fanshawe family in the opening years of the seventeenth century. A fine plantation had been established for the growing of tobacco, indigo, and sugar cane. Over time, more and more of the arable land had been devoted to the latter, for the third Duke of Wyndham had developed a very strong liking for rum, and had done much research and experimentation to improve the produce of St. Claire, where he'd spent a number of years as a young man. Sadly, as the cane fields grew ever larger, the importation of many more African slaves had become necessary. The third Duke, and the fourth (Lady Henrietta's erstwhile husband) had seen to it that the folk were treated as well as possible, although both had left the running of the plantation entirely to hired overseers in their later years. When the fourth Duke passed on, his cousin Richard succeeded to his room, and advised the Dowager Duchess to send her nephew by marriage, the honorable Montgomery Eustace Fanshawe, to St. Claire. This was, ostensibly, to take over management of the estate (for why on earth would Harry, who now owned it, ever wish to leave Civilization to actually go there?), but was, in reality, more in the nature of a bone thrown to Monty to assuage any annoyance he might have felt on being cut out of the succession. Thus it was that, when Harry stood on the deck of the _Black Pearl_ that morning, looking across the water to St. Claire as it appeared on the wide horizon, it was the first time the actual owner had seen the island in twenty-five years.

"How much longer?"

Jack glanced at Harry, standing beside him on the quarterdeck. "That's the third time you've asked me that this morning," he said, sounding exasperated. "You're as bad as a child."

"Still early afternoon, then?" she said, unabashed. "I thought perhaps since the wind's picked up some…"

"Hasn't picked up more than a couple of knots. It's a fine day. Just enjoy the voyage."

"I've been enjoying the voyage for four days. As lovely as it's been, I'm more than ready to reach our destination. Do you know where you will anchor?"

"The charts show a good-sized bay at the South end of the island. It's nearer the plantation, too. But I'm making for a smaller inlet on the West side. It's deeper water, and hidden by a spit of land, maybe with trees. Since young Monty isn't expecting you I thought we'd do well to tread warily."

"Oh, yes. He _will_ be surprised, but that should make it all the easier to find out what he's been doing with my property." Harry looked up at Jack and smiled. "I'm going to beg another scone and some tea from Anatole. Would you like some?"

"Thanks, but no. You'll have to be lettin' those dresses out again if you're not careful."

Harry laughed. "Oh, no! I expect to do a great deal of walking and riding once we've landed. I am so very much looking forward to it!"

As she stepped merrily down the steps and crossed the deck, heading toward the galley, Jack watched appreciatively, hoping they'd find nothing to disappoint her when they finally landed on the island. Although, considering some of the rumors he'd heard about St. Claire, he had his doubts.

o-o-o

It was nearly two o'clock when they finally dropped anchor. It had taken a bit longer than Jack had estimated to find their destination, for the vegetation was lush on that side of the island, including on the small peninsula that sheltered the little cove. When they'd finally found it, however, Jack was impressed.

"This is excellent!" he remarked. "With all these trees and such, the ship won't be visible from the sea, and nothin' can follow us in that doesn't have sweeps. You wouldn't consider lettin' the _Pearl_ make berth here, would you?" He said this last as a jest, but privately thought it rather a good notion.

"Why, perhaps _something_ could be arranged," said Harry, considering this with a sly smile and a theatrical finger against her chin. "We shall have to negotiate a price. Say fourteen hundred in gold."

Jack laughed. "Aye, we'll have to negotiate." He added,"We'd have to fix up that dock," thoughtfully eyeing the dilapidated structure. "And clear the paths—they look to be a bit overgrown. Plenty of fresh water, though." There was a small waterfall to be seen nearby, through the trees, its stream letting out into the cove.

Elizabeth said, "Aunt, let's prepare to disembark! You'll want to change into your old traveling dress if we are to walk to the plantation house."

"Yes, indeed, and I'll braid and pin up my hair as well. We'll leave you to plan _Pearl's Rest_, Captain!" Harry smiled, and departed with Elizabeth.

o-o-o

"Captain! You'd best get down here and see this."

It was Gibbs, standing at the starboard rail. Will stood next to him and turned to Jack as he approached, coming down the steps of the quarterdeck.

"It looks like a body!" Will said.

Jack's eyes widened. "Where?" he said, coming to the rail.

"Over there, in the shade of that tree."

Sure enough, there was a shape in the water that looked distinctly like a human form floating face down in the shallows.

"Let's get a boat in the water and take a look," said Jack, frowning.

He was frowning a great deal more a few minutes later.

"Good God!" said Will, feeling a bit sick. "What on earth…who would do such a thing?"

The body, which they'd pulled up on shore in the shadows of the great tree, was that of an old black man, naked, his hair grizzled white, his body too thin. And he was marked with evidence of most hideous torture, from brand, whip, and blade.

"Any number of bastards in the world that would do this," said Gibbs, "though I didn't think to find one on Lady Fanshawe's island. Looks like they've problems far more serious here than just embezzlement. What do you think, Captain? Jack? What's wrong?"

For Jack, looking quite pale under his tan, was staring at the dead man as though he'd seen a ghost. "Turn him over, Gibbs. Let's see his back again."

Gibbs complied, and the three men looked at the proliferation of lash marks that covered the old man's back in a oddly ordered fashion.

"Holy God!" breathed Gibbs. He looked up at Jack. "Ye don't think…?"

"What?" demanded Will, looking from Jack to Gibbs and then back again.

"Lucius Cray," said Jack. Then he looked at Gibbs. "Maybe."

"Aye. Maybe. But what the devil would he be doin' in the Caribbean?"

"Maybe gives him more opportunity to indulge his…peculiar tastes," Jack said. He looked at Will and spoke with a composure that was belied by the haunted look in his eyes: "Lucius Cray, formerly of the East India Company. Gave me the brand on me arm, and a set of scars on me back that look remarkably like this fella's, though not as many, of course. East India trustees didn't hold with floggin' men quite to death, though I know Cray got away with it anyway, once or twice. I was one of the luckier ones."

"My God," said Will. "What are we going to do?" He glanced into the thick foliage as though evil lurked there, and then looked over at the _Black Pearl_, which suddenly looked frighteningly vulnerable in the little hidden cove, holding, as it did, those he treasured most.

Jack replied: "We're going to find out if it's him, and, if it is, we'll get out as fast as we can. If we can bring evidence to Norrington, all the better, but it's likely he'll at least come to investigate just on the rumor: Cray's a wanted man, y'see. Went too far, finally, and the East India Company put out a warrant after he ran. Must've been five years ago we first heard about it." Jack looked around. "We'll send a couple of the crew to bury this fella. Let's get back to the ship."

o-o-o

"Your sword's in the cabin, is it not?" said Will, as he climbed the last of the rope ladder, coming up behind Jack. "What are we going to tell Lady Fanshawe?"

Jack muttered an oath, then growled, "That she's stayin' here, of course." He stalked across the deck toward the companionway.

"Just that? She'll want to know why. You know what she is. You'd better consider what you're going to say."

Jack did know, of course, and was still frowning over what to say when they reached the cabin and entered.

Harry was standing in front of the mirror, in her old dress, brushing out her hair, which hung clear down to her sweet backside, smooth and shiny as silk, and Elizabeth stood beside her. Both ladies looked up in surprise as Jack and Will came in, for there had been no warning knock.

"There's been a change of plans," Jack said, heading to the sword rack on the wall.

"What sort of change?" Harry demanded, frowning as she saw him reach for his favorite weapon.

Jack glanced at her, and said as he handed Will his second best sword, "We're going over, Will and I, to make sure all's safe. You'll need to stay here 'til we get back."

"But why?" exclaimed Elizabeth.

Harry, however, didn't care why. "I will not!" she said, crisply. "It's _my_ island! You may accompany me, if you wish, but I am going ashore!"

"No, you're not," said Jack, firmly, buckling on the swordbelt. "Look: we've found a body, an old slave from the looks of 'im, and he was pretty badly used before he died. There may be coves a good deal more dangerous than your nevvie at large over there. You'll stay on the ship until I've seen it's safe for you to come ashore, savvy?"

"No, I don't _savvy_!" Harry objected, growing irate at his uncompromising tone. "It's _my_ island! I hired you to transport me, not to be my nursemaid! I'm going ashore, to see first hand what is toward."

Jack ground his teeth. He knew he was handling her badly, but he'd been thrown off more than a little by the sight of the seemingly familiar mutilations on the dead man and the knowledge that his old enemy might have inflicted them, right here on Harry's little island paradise! He considered telling her about Cray, but thrust the notion aside. It was quite possible he was mistaken, after all, and it would take time and patience to get her to listen: she'd already assumed the mulish look she wore when thwarted. Suppressing the urge to swear (aloud, at least), he said tightly, "It _is_ your island, aye, but it's _my ship_ and as captain I say who goes and who stays and you're stayin', for now." He moved toward the door, followed by Will, who exchanged a rueful glance with Elizabeth.

But Harry exclaimed, "No!" and went after Jack and grabbed his sleeve. He turned toward her and she shook him, saying angrily, "Jack, I _will_ go over! You cannot keep me here against my will! I must see for myself what has been done with my property. It is I who must be able to convince the Navy to act on my behalf if there is need!"

As annoyed as he was, he could not help giving just a very slight smirk at her pretty vehemance. He said, "You'll get enough evidence, even if you can't go yourself--I'll see to that. Now, be a good wee dowager duchess and settle yourself. Captain's order!"

Harry released his arm then, with every evidence of loathing. _Wee dowager duchess, indeed!_ She hissed, "I don't take orders from you! I'll find another way over, then. I shall _swim_ over if I have to!"

Jack could envision her doing just that, and his temper snapped. "Everyone on this ship takes orders from me, as you well know, Lady Fanshawe. You and your niece'll stay until I tell you otherwise, and by God, you so much as make a move to leave this ship and I'll lay a strap across your bare arse when next we meet!"

Harry gasped and went white with anger. "How _dare_ you! How _dare_ you say such a thing to me!"

He knew he had erred, the moment the words had left his lips, and would have given much to take them back. Far too late! There being nothing for it, he gathered his shredded patience, caught her clenched fists in his hands and held them tightly. "Now, sweetheart!" he purred, "I would never!" He bent and kissed her hands, and felt a little of the tension leave her. He looked into her eyes again, and added quickly, "Unless you leave the ship!"

He dropped her hands, shoved Will out into the passageway, got out himself, then turned and slammed the door. Swiftly he stooped and grabbed a wedge of wood that was occasionally used to prop the door open, shoving the narrow edge under it and kicking the stop home with his boot. None too soon: there immediately came a violent rattling, then pounding and muffled exclamations of profanity.

"Well, you handled that brilliantly," Will said sarcastically.

Jack rolled his eyes and muttered, "Oh, my God. Let's bloody go!"

They were half way to the stairs when a shriek of fury came from the cabin and something large, heavy and obviously breakable shattered behind the door. They jumped at the sound, and looked at each other.

"The lamp, I think," Jack said.

"Hmmm," said Will, raising one brow. He followed Jack to the stairs and up to the deck.

"Gibbs!" Jack called.

"Aye, sir," Gibbs said, hurrying over.

"The ladies are a bit…_put out_, shall we say?… at bein' left behind," Jack told his henchman. "I've taken steps to ensure they stay safely in the cabin, but if by chance they do happen to get out and show any sign of wantin' to leave the ship, tie 'em up. Savvy?"

"Tie 'em up?" Gibbs said, a little startled.

"Aye. Both of 'em."

"Aye, sir!" said Gibbs. He looked a question at Will, who grimaced meaningfully. Gibbs cocked an eyebrow and smiled grimly.


	19. Evidence

**Chapter 19: _Evidence_**

****

"Y'know," observed Jack, "This would be rather pleasant, if it weren't for a couple of flies in the ointment."

He and Will were making their way along a path leading inland from the cove where the _Black Pearl_ lay at anchor, and Jack found that he was quite enjoying the walk. Harry's island was a beautiful place, lush with greenery and flowers, their sweet scents mingling with that of earth and sea. Beautiful sounds abounded, too: birdsong, and the faint music of fresh water chuckling in stony beds, and, under those, the distant sound of waves against a rocky shore. And, of course, adding its piquant prickle of pleasure to the proceedings was the knowledge that his darling guest was locked in his cabin, literally fit to be tied.

Darling. Yes. And maddening, too. She was a piece of work, was Elizabeth's auntie. He'd rarely been so taken with a woman--not in years. Or maybe never. He'd have to think on it, though it was difficult to bring other women to mind when Harry was about. Funny that. She hadn't Elizabeth's classic beauty, though she was very pretty: pretty like sun sparkling on the sea, maybe, or like one of those roses that'd graced his mother's garden when he was a lad: small and pink and soft, and devilish thorny, too, though that only made 'em all the more desirable. But besides the pretty, Harry was possessed of a liveliness and elegant charm that more than made up for her lack of inches and too-youthful countenance. Oh, yes, he understood all too well why she'd taken exception to his patronizing tone, and to his demeaning (and probably idle) threat. He'd erred, there. If the cost was merely a smashed lamp he'd count himself lucky indeed. Such wanton destruction! He smiled, grimly, thinking of the scold he'd give her on his return, and the rare time he'd have wheedling his way back into her good graces afterwards. He'd no doubt he could, especially if he and Will were able to bring back news of young Monty. After all, was he not _Captain Jack Sparrow, Wheedler Extraordinaire_? He was quite looking forward to his next encounter with the lady, in fact, and was reflecting on it with pleasurable anticipation when Will rudely interrupted this absorbing train of thought.

"A couple of flies?," said Will, with unabated sarcasm. "You mean the fact that there's a right bastard loose on Lady Fanshawe's island, and we're off to come a-calling while the crew's keeping busy burying his latest victim? Or the other little fly: Elizabeth locked in your cabin with her mad aunt, who is ready to do a murder?"

Jack said reassuringly, "She wants to murder me, not Elizabeth. Don't worry. They're safe: that's what matters. Lady Fanshawe will come 'round, so long as we can bring her evidence to take back to Norrington. Could've taken the old fella, but he'd be rather worse for another five days above ground. Best to find someone fresher, eh?"

"You're certainly lighthearted, considering your reaction to the old man not an hour since."

"Aye, well, I'm thinkin' maybe it's not Cray. Never heard any hint of a rumor about him comin' to the Caribbean, and there's not much that gets by me. Tortuga's a hotbed of gossip and that information would be of interest to most of the brethren."

"I hope you're right. He sounds like an ugly customer."

Jack laughed shortly. "That's the word with no bark on it. They don't come any uglier."

They had no trouble following the path in spite of its being somewhat overgrown. Apparently it was used, though not frequently. It had seemed to head toward the southeast end of the island, where the plantation lay, and sure enough, they'd been walking for under an hour when they began to see signs of habitation: a few structures, little more than shacks really, with small vegetable gardens attached. They went more warily after that, although they saw no one. Presently they could make out the shapes of larger buildings ahead of them, through the trees. The undergrowth had been thinned out to either side of the path, too.

Jack gave Will a silent nudge and nod, leading him off the path and into the shadows of the trees. They both kept a sharp eye, but achieved the outskirts of the plantation compound unmolested.

Jack stayed close to the buildings, casually stealthful, and Will followed his lead, although he was getting more nervous all the time as they failed to come across any inhabitants.

"Where do you think they all are?" Will asked in a low voice.

They had stopped at the far edge of a building that seemed to be a stable, and now looked across a large central area which had once been covered with lawn, but was now mostly bare dirt. On the far side lay the enormous plantation house, two storied with a wide veranda on the ground floor and a balcony above, both of which entirely surrounded the house. There were many large windows hung with fine white curtains, and double front doors, and they were all open to catch the afternoon breeze. There was another building far to the left of the house, a large barn or workshop made entirely of some gray, rough hewn stone. Stands of beautiful trees, some of them flowering ones, completed the picture. Or almost.

"I don't know," Jack replied to Will's query, "but I don't like the looks of that." He pointed toward the front of the stone building.

Will looked more closely, and frowned. A huge post had been set into the ground, and it was adorned with an iron ring at about the five foot mark. "A whipping post! In sight of the house!"

"Likes to watch the entertainment from the veranda, I daresay," said Jack, dryly. He looked around warily, but still could see no one about. "Come on. We'll take a look at the house."

He led the way, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, although there was no way to cross the open area before the house without leaving their protection somewhat. No hue and cry sounded, however, and they gained the veranda and walked quietly to the open doors, looking in down a long central hallway. There were doors open at the other end of it, too, giving a glimpse of a greener lawn area in back of the house, but what interested the men more were the sounds that issued from a room halfway down the passage. Sounds of a woman weeping.

Jack walked quietly down into the hallway, heading for the sounds, and Will followed, glancing back over his shoulder, his hand at the hilt of his sword. The weeping sounds were joined by the distressed voice of another woman, speaking in French. As they reached the half-open door of the room where the women were, Jack paused, listening to their conversation. Then, after a minute, he quietly pushed the door open and walked in. Will followed, expecting startled shrieks to erupt momentarily.

But they did not. The two women, both brown-skinned and dressed in the white dresses, aprons, and caps of housemaids, looked up, a little startled but suddenly quiet, staring at Jack and Will. And then, to Will's surprise, Jack began to speak to them, in gently persuasive tones. In French.

Will didn't speak French himself, but it was obvious to him that whatever Jack was saying was having a calming effect on the women. The younger and prettier of the two sniffed dolefully, but wiped her tear-stained cheeks and replied in sorrowful tones. The other woman joined in the conversation, apparently imparting some interesting information, for Jack's brows rose abruptly and he frowned. He made further queries, then ended the conversation on a soothing note. He bowed politely to them, then turned to Will. "Come on," he said, and led the way out the door. Will glanced back, nodding to the women, then hurried after him.

"It's Cray, all right," Jack said, as he strode back down the hall to the front doors. "Doesn't go by that here—calls himself 'Monsieur Lucien'—but they described him, right enough. He's got a scar across one cheek that's hard to miss."

"What else did you find out? And how is it you are so fluent in French?"

Addressing the second of Will's questions, Jack said casually, "Picked it up here and there. Comes in useful when takin' one of Louis' ships, y'know."

"Don't give me that! You sounded like you were born to it!"

"Callin' me a liar, boy?" Jack said, glancing sidelong at Will.

"Yes!"

"Oh. Well, I have to have a few secrets—maintain me air of mystery an' all. Anyway, what's it matter?" They had emerged onto the veranda, and Jack headed down the steps to cross the yard to the stone building.

"Aren't we supposed to be keeping to the shadows?" Will asked, glancing around nervously.

"They said Cray and his men are in the east cane fields, along with most of the slaves that work 'em. Won't be back yet awhile." They approached the whipping post, the ground around which was set with stained stone slates. Jack gave it a wide berth, grimacing with disgust. Will merely looked horrified.

Unfortunately there was worse to come.

"Careful now," said Jack quietly, as they approached the door to the stone building. "Those women were weepin' about a fella Cray was workin' on this morning. Said there was a guard left to watch 'im, and they're both still in here. We may have our 'evidence' for Norrington."

Jack drew his sword, and Will followed suit. Then the pirate opened the door, wincing at the faint squeak of hinges, and the two men stepped into the cool, shadowed interior.

It took a few long seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when they did it was seen that this large front room of the stone building was a smithy, somewhat like Brown's back in Port Royal. Except that it was obvious that this one was used for more than making farm equipment and weapons. There was a big, stained wooden table equipped with leather straps toward the center of the room, other questionable-looking implements scattered here and there, and near the forge at the far left side was a kind of upright frame made of heavy wooden beams upon which the dark shape of a man was hung by a rope around his wrists.

"God's life," Jack muttered. Will just stared in silence.

"'Ere, wot's this?" came a sharp voice.

There was a rush of wind and Jack and Will sprang aside, barely in time to avoid being hit with a huge club, wielded by a squint-eyed, well-muscled tough. The club glanced off the wall, but the fellow turned like lightning and went after Jack, who tried to parry the next blow with his sword, which was not very effective. Fortunately Will slashed at the burly arm at the same time. The thug gave a yell as the sword bit deep, and the club fell to the ground. Jack finished the job, skewering him in the opposite shoulder, jerking the sword free, reversing it and slamming the man in the head with the hilt. The man went down like so much dead meat.

"That was too close!" Will said, his heart thudding in his chest.

"Get some o' that rope and tie 'im up," said Jack briefly, and turned to approach the figure tied to the hideous frame.

He was still alive, at least. Jack saw him trying to lift his head as he walked toward him. Naked except for a kind of loincloth, the man was seen to be tall and well made, his skin dusky, his face solemn and composed. Evenly spaced marks from a hot brand, applied recently, adorned his chest.

To Jack's surprise the man spoke as he approached, and in good English. "Many thanks, sir. Even if I die tonight, you have given me satisfaction."

"My pleasure. Brace yourself: I'm going to cut you down." Jack reached up and cut through the ropes holding the man's wrists high. The fellow dropped, slumping to his knees but then tried to rise, slowly, stiffly. Jack gave him a little assistance, asking, "What's your name?"

"I am Judah." He rose to his full height, at least six inches above Jack's, and looked down at the pirate enigmatically. "And may I ask yours?" His voice was deep and calm.

"Captain Jack Sparrow. Did Monsieur Lucien do this to you?" Jack indicated the brand marks.

Judah nodded. "You know him?"

"Aye. I've a similar relationship with him. Old business, though. How long's he been overseer here?"

"For three years, although for the first two he was held in check by Fanshawe, the owner."

"What happened then? To Fanshawe?"

Judah looked at Jack, slight concern reflected in his deep brown eyes. "Who are you that you ask?"

"Montgomery Fanshawe ain't the owner of this island I've brought the lady who owns it on my ship: the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham. I'm her friend."

"You've brought her here!" said Judah, sounding troubled. "It's not safe here. I have to tell you, then: Monsieur Lucien killed Montgomery Fanshawe. It was a year ago. Since then…things have been bad. Very bad."

"Did I hear you say Fanshawe's dead?" said Will, coming up to the two.

Jack said, "Judah, this is William Turner, soon to be Lady Fanshawe's nephew by marriage."

Will held out a hand to the big man, and the slave hesitated, then took it and shook it firmly. Judah said: "It may be that your coming will be a great blessing to our people. Lucien is a cruel master. He seeks to break the people by killing their leaders, and he kills slowly and with great pain."

"Aye, he would," said Jack. "We found an old fella floatin' in the cove where we left the ship. I thought I recognized Lucien's work on 'im. Did you know him?"

"In the cove!" said Judah, startled. "He was…he was as a father to me, and to all the people here. He died well. He should have been buried with all honor."

"We took care of that--pretty spot, under a tree," said Jack. "But, Judah, you must come with us, to Port Royal. With you giving evidence, the dowager duchess can get the Navy to come and clean up the place--get rid of Lucien for good!"

"The British Navy? Do you think they would come?" Judah sounded skeptical.

"It will. Lady Fanshawe will see to that."

"If I leave, it may go badly for my people."

"Aye. Well, you must risk it, I'm afraid."

Judah considered this, looking around the big room. Finally he turned his eyes on Jack again, saying, "You are right. There is nothing I can do alone. And I think they'd planned to kill me soon, for I am now the leader of the people--an empty title thus far! We should go. Lucien and his men will begin to return within the next hour."

"Think you can walk all the way to that little hidden cove on the West side?"

"I can," Judah said simply.

Jack nodded. "Let's go then."


	20. Escape

**Chapter 20: _Escape_**

****

Elizabeth sighed, watching her aunt stalk about the cabin muttering _officious knave_, _obstinate fool_, _boil him in oil_, and other phrases expressive of her current sentiments with regard to Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Aunt!" Elizabeth said at last, "You know you don't mean it! You _like_ Jack!"

"That is quite beside the point," snapped Harry. "I shall never forgive him. _Never!_"

"Of course you will!"

"I won't! How _dare_ he bring me all this way and then refuse to let me off the ship. It is beyond anything! And then to speak to me in such a way..._oh!_ I could _murder_ him!"

Elizabeth said sympathetically, "I do know how you feel, Aunt. Before the final confrontation with Barbossa, Jack suggested to Norrington that I might be in danger, and they locked me in the Great Cabin on the _Dauntless_! I was quite furious!"

"Bloody, interfering…" Harry turned to Elizabeth suddenly. "How did you get out?"

"Why, I climbed out the window. I told you that, remember?"

Harry looked at the vast area of many paned windows at the back and sides of the cabin. Sure enough, there were two portions of window in the middle that looked like they might open—there were latches at the bottom! The Dowager Duchess strode across the cabin and began to jiggle and pull at the latches, which were a little stiff from infrequent use.

"Aunt," said Elizabeth warily, "you are not thinking of trying to escape, are you?"

"Certainly I am. There!" She had managed to open one latch and pushed open the window. "Oh, come here and look! It's beautiful!"

Elizabeth got up off the bed where she'd been sitting and came to stand by her aunt. The view out the open window was indeed beautiful. The sun shone brightly, but there were many clouds, possibly portending a mild rainfall, but definitely a beautiful sunset. The cove's water was a deeper azure than the open sea, and the vegetation on shore was a riotous many-textured landscape of a hundred shades of green, accented with bright flowers.

Harry had now got the other window unlatched and pushed it wide. She leaned on the sill and breathed in the fresh air. "That's _my_ island, Elizabeth. Mine! How many people in the world are fortunate enough to be able to say that?"

"Not many," Elizabeth smiled. Then her smile faded and she added, " But Aunt, Jack would not have said what he did if there was not real danger!"

Harry straightened again, saying, "Nonsense. When all is said and done, he is the same as any other man, thinking women must be cosseted and protected! Such _stuff!_" She looked out the window again, this time down at the water below. She frowned. "We are quite high above the water, and the _Dauntless's_ Great Cabin must have been even higher. How ever did you manage to climb down?"

Elizabeth looked out and down, too, thinking hopefully that perhaps her aunt's fear of heights would prevent the lady from embarking on this rash venture. "I tied tablecloths together, but it wasn't easy even then. Much more difficult than a rope ladder, I'm afraid."

Harry mulled this over, but finally straightened decisively. "I refuse to leave for Port Royal without seeing my property. Don't worry. I shouldn't be long."

She turned away and headed over to where Jack's cupboards and chests were placed, in the area near the foot of the bed.

"Aunt Harry!" Elizabeth said, in some distress, "You must not! What I _should_ do is tell Mr. Gibbs what you are planning!" .

Harry had thrown open Jack's chest, but at this she turned to her niece, looking quite shocked and hurt. "You wouldn't!"

Elizabeth nearly wrung her hands. She finally said, "No, I suppose I wouldn't. But Aunt! You must not go alone! Wait for Jack to come back--if it is safe, I am sure he will take you."

"No! He is rude and overbearing and he will only give me a tremendous scold about the lamp and then gloat for the rest of the afternoon, and I won't have it! If you do not wish me to go alone, come with me. We shall dress in male attire, as a nod to safety, and take weapons, too: look here: knives!" She took one from the chest and held it up, a long blade encased in an embossed leather sheath. "Do you have the clothing you wore at the Bride's Auction?"

"Oh, Aunt!" Elizabeth shook her head at her aunt's folly, and at her own too. "I wore Jack's shirt and breeches. I gave the waistcoat back to Anamaria, but I daresay Jack has another I could wear. But Aunt, you cannot wear his clothing: they are large on me, but they'd be enormous on you!"

"He must have something I can wear," Harry muttered, turning back to the chest and beginning to rifle through shirts, scarves, stockings, shoes and a great many other items belonging to the absent Captain.

With a sigh of resignation, Elizabeth went to the cupboard, which was set into the bulkhead, and began to select some clothing for herself. She'd just finished finding what she needed when she heard some light footsteps, and a jaunty whistle coming from the passageway outside the cabin.

Harry had heard it too. She looked up at Elizabeth, brows raised, and said one word. "Owens!" With a little smile she jumped up, grabbed some scarves, a short embroidered cloak and the knife from where she'd tossed them, and went to the cabin door. The shards of the lamp were still scattered about, but she got down and brushed the broken glass away from the door with the cloak. Then she took the knife from its sheath and began to poke quietly beneath the door, presently saying, "Ha!" She got to her feet and carefully opened the door.

"Aunt! What did you do? How did you get it open?" Elizabeth said, low and surprised.

Harry stealthily peeked out. The door to Will's cabin was open: Owens was within, making it up. Harry reached around the door and picked up the doorstop she'd poked free with the knife, brought it in and handed it to Elizabeth.

"Is that all that was holding it?" Elizabeth said, surprised.

"Yes, but he undoubtedly left orders to detain us," Harry said. She put her head out the door again. "Owens!" she called, in a low lilting tone. "Owens, my dear, can you help me with something?"

Owens came out of Will's cabin and smiled at Lady Fanshawe. "Of course, ma'am," he said, with alacrity. She opened the door for him and he entered the Captain's cabin, and his smile vanished. Something was wrong: the Captain's things were scattered in heaps over near the bed, instead of stowed neatly in the cupboard and chest as was usual, there was a fancy cloak half covering a heap of broken glass by the door. And the big windows at the back were open! "What…" he started to ask and then gasped in surprise and dismay as the Dowager Duchess whipped a big white scarf around his face. He cried out, grabbing at it, but she drew it tight against his mouth.

Harry began to apologize even as she efficiently silenced the unfortunate Cabin Boy, saying sympathetically, "My dear, I am so very sorry to have to do this, but I'm afraid I have need of your clothing!"

Elizabeth exclaimed, "Oh, my God, Aunt! You are outrageous!" but nevertheless closed the door and came to help her aunt.

The two subdued the struggling boy as gently as possible and began to unbutton his clothing, working quickly in spite of his efforts to get away from them.

As she worked, Elizabeth said, "Aunt this is a dreadful thing to do! Owens, indeed we are very sorry!"

Harry said, "Yes, of course we are, though if Captain Sparrow had not been so rude and pig-headed we would not have had need to do this, so it is quite _his_ fault, and so you may tell him when you see him, Owens. I shall make this up to you, though, never fear. Indeed, I so very much appreciate your loaning me your things! I shall get you a whole new wardrobe. Anything you like! We shall make a list of what you need, when I return to the ship."

Owens, voicing muffled objections, particularly to Lady Fanshawe's last few words, found himself divested of waistcoat, shirt, and breeches, and tied to one of the big, carved chairs with some of the Captain's colorful scarves, clad only in his threadbare undergarments, to his intense embarrassment. There was worse to come: the ladies, fortunately standing behind his chair so that they were out of his direct line of sight, proceeded to change their clothes, Miss Swann into some belonging to the Captain, and Lady Fanshawe into Owens's things. The Señora had chosen Owens's garments in accordance with the theory that he would grow into them and they had hung on him like those of a scarecrow as a result. They fit Lady Fanshawe pretty exactly, however, and the breeches were even seen to be a little snug when the ladies finished dressing and went back over to the piles of items near the bed. Each lady tied a bright scarf at her waist and chose one of the Captain's knives to secure beneath these makeshift belts. Then the two spent some time braiding their hair into longish queues, and topped this off with scarves tied 'round their heads in the way the Captain did his.

Thus adequately attired, the ladies went back to rifling through the Captain's belongings and, finding a pile of bed linens, tied them together end to end. This makeshift length was then tied to the circular iron handle of a heavy cabinet that lay beside the open window and the other end dropped out, to slither down the stern of the ship.

Before they left, Lady Fanshawe came back over and crouched by Owens' chair, looking up at him sympathetically.

"Owens, again, I am so very sorry, and I _will_ make it up to you, I promise! We are just going to go over and have a look 'round my property. You may tell the Captain that, if he returns before we do, and that we will be back presently. I'm sorry to have to leave you bound to this chair, but I daresay you won't be tied up here long." The lady rose, kissing him gently on his forehead, and smiling reassuringly at him. Then she turned away and Owens watched in helpless dismay as Miss Swann climbed out the window and down the line of linens, followed by the frightened but determined Dowager Duchess.

After a minute, Owens heard a splash, but there was no other sound, and no outcry was heard from on deck. The ladies were gone.


	21. Discovery

**Chapter 21: _Discovery_**

****

Will was first up the ladder of the Pearl, followed by Judah, then Jack.

"Sure, it's good to see you back, Captain," Gibbs said.

"All quiet below?" Jack asked.

"Haven't heard a peep out of 'em since you left, an' that's a fact," Gibbs assured him.

Jack frowned. "Not a peep?"

"No!" Gibbs frowned, too. "Seems a bit odd, don't it? But no, we'd have heard 'em!" Gibbs looked at Judah, who was still recovering his breath after the climb up the ladder, sweat beading his brow. "An' just who is this fine young lad, Captain? Looks a bit worse for wear."

"Name's Judah. He's Lady Fanshawe's 'evidence'," Jack said. "Anamaria, come over here!"

Ana came, one brow lifting at the sight of Judah's injured but nonetheless magnificent frame. She frowned a little at the livid marks on his chest and abdomen. "Aye, Captain?" she said. She raised her chin a little at the cool look the slave was giving her.

"This is Judah," Jack told her. "I want you to take 'im in charge: he's had some dealings with one Mr. Cray recently."

Ana's eyes whipped to Jack's. "_Cray!_ Lucius Cray's on that island? An' you and Turner payin' 'im a little visit? You're off your head! Bloody hell, Jack! What if he'd caught you?"

"Well, he didn't, so stop scolding," said Jack, testily. He noticed the poorly suppressed amusement of Will, Gibbs and even Judah, and thought about taking Anamaria to task for insubordination, but finally just sighed and frowned at her, needing her cooperation more than he needed to maintain his dignity, at present. "Judah's in your charge. See that his wounds are treated, and get him some food and clothes." He turned to the slave, and said conspiratorially, "Ana's a good nurse, but watch yourself or she'll take the top of your head off."

"As the Captain would be knowin' from experience," Gibbs added to Judah, with a sidelong glance at Jack.

"Hmmmph." Jack eyed Gibbs with disfavor, but was unable to deny this sally. "Let's go release the ladies, Will," he said, retreating in good order.

Judah looked down at the pirate wench. "So, Miss Anamaria," he said, both humor and respect in his eyes. "It seems you have the command."

"As far as you're concerned, I do," she agreed, an edge to her voice. "And don't you be forgettin' it, man."

o-o-o

Will followed Jack down the companionway steps and nearly collided with him at the bottom. Jack had stopped, staring. "The door stop's out," he said, his voice grim. Will looked, and sure enough the door was no longer wedged. A cold feeling started in the pit of Will's stomach.

They strode quickly to the door and Jack threw it open. The men walked in: no ladies, only Owens, gagged and tied to a chair with bright scarves, dressed in his underclothes, his big dark eyes full of distress. The cabin a complete shambles. And the window open with the makeshift line of bed linens hanging out.

As he crossed the room, Jack let out a string of profanity that terrified his Cabin Boy, and brought a tinge of color to Will's cheek, even as he marveled at the pirate's eloquence. Jack drew his knife and Owens closed his eyes while his captain sliced through the scarf gagging him.

"What happened?" Jack demanded, shortly, although of course he already knew. He bent to cut the scarves binding Owens' wrists and ankles.

"I couldn't stop them, Captain. I tried, honest, but they…they gagged me, an' then took my clothes, an' tied me up. They…they're stronger than you'd think, for women I mean. Your lady put on my clothes, an' Miss Swann put on some o' yours, like she wore back at Tortuga."

"What did they say?" Will asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

"They're gone to see Lady Fanshawe's property," said Owens, simply.

At this point Gibbs walked in and took in the situation at a glance. "Mary Mother o' God!"

"Exactly!" growled Jack. "You saw and heard nothing?"

"Not a thing, as God's me witness," Gibbs confirmed. "They must've been quiet as church mice."

Jack swore foully again, and said, "By God, I'll murder her! Will, are you coming?"

"Of course I'm coming!"

"I am, too, Captain, and some of the others," Gibbs said quickly. "No need to go over by yourselves this time—safety in numbers an' all."

"Safe for whom?" Jack said, furious that his men would be put in jeopardy because of that spoiled baggage. But even as he thought this, he knew his handling of her had been partly to blame. He swore again.

Gibbs said: "Safer for you an' Turner, and the ladies, and don't go arguin' about it."

Jack nodded, briefly. "Let's go, then."

"Can I come too, Captain?" Owens piped up.

Jack rounded on him. "No! And if you say another word about it you'll be scrapin' paint off this ship for a year! _Savvy_?" The boy nodded, his eyes wide. Jack said, smoothing a little of the anger from his voice, "You'll report to Anamaria after you find some clothes. She's seein' to a guest, and will likely have need of you to fetch and carry."

"Aye, sir," Owens managed to say, and was suddenly a little thankful to see the men stalk out of the cabin. It would be far easier to endure Anamaria's sharp tongue and demands than his Captain's black mood.


	22. Cray

**Chapter 22: _Cray_**

****

"Look at this!" exclaimed Harry to her niece. "It's just as I imagined it! Oh, I am going to love it here!"

The two ladies were looking out from the vegetation to a wide, white sand beach that seemed to go on for at least a half mile. Gentle waves broke on the strand, and numerous birds wheeled and circled, giving their lonely cries. The late afternoon sun was slowly turning everything to gold.

Their clothes were soaked. Harry had survived the Descent of the Linens, though her grip had given out and she'd fallen the last few feet, successfully stifling her squeal of terror but not the splash she made as she hit the water. Bobbing up again, she and Elizabeth had warily paused, treading water in the shadow of the great ship's stern, in case someone on deck might have heard. Apparently no one had, however, nor were they spotted as they swam the moderate distance to shore, and hauled themselves dripping from the cove. They were lost to view after that, disappearing almost immediately onto the foliage-lined trail leading along the water's edge, toward the southern end of the island. After an enjoyable walk of a half-mile or so, the rain forest had ended with this view of the beach.

"Monty wrote letters when he first came here, describing this end of the island in great detail," Harry continued, leading the way from the shelter of the foliage and onto the sand. "About halfway up this beach there should be a path going inland that leads to the plantation house and outbuildings. There is a view of this beach from the back of the house."

"Is that where you want to go?" asked Elizabeth. "It is nearing evening, you know. We'll need to return before dark, so we won't have much time." Elizabeth frowned unhappily, imagining the Scene that would undoubtedly take place on their return to the _Black Pearl_.

But Harry said, "I know. We'll just have a quick look 'round, unless we happen upon my nephew, which we may well: everyone should be returning from the fields soon, according to what he told me of their day-to-day activities."

They walked as quickly as possible through the sand, and presently the big house came into view, atop a gently sloping hill overlooking the beach.

"It is certainly a beautiful house!" Elizabeth said, as they walked up the well-worn path.

"It is, is it not?" agreed Harry. "It is my understanding that the whole property is very fine, and the land some of the richest in this part of the Caribbean. That is why it seems so odd that the profits have fallen off." She frowned a little as they moved closer, for thus far there did not appear to be anyone about, and she suddenly began thinking of Jack's insistence that there might be danger. She said to Elizabeth, "Let's be careful now, and try to stay in the shadows."

"Just in case Jack was right?" said Elizabeth tartly.

Harry grimaced. "Yes. Just in case." She now could admit, at least to herself, that she might have been just a little unreasonable in refusing so adamantly to heed Jack. Still, to have threatened her in such a way, and before Elizabeth and Will, too! It was beyond anything! She began to grow quite furious again just thinking of it, and was glad of the exertion of the climb up the hill which not only helped to dispel the itch to murder Jack Sparrow (or at least slap the arrogant smile from his face) but also hid the true reason for the angry flush that heated her cheeks.

They were approaching the house now, and Harry led the way into the shadows of the big trees that now punctuated the landscape. They saw no one, and, coming to the lawn at the back of the house, walked across and slipped silently up the stairs of the veranda. They went and peered stealthily into the open double doors, but heard sounds of several men talking within one of the rooms off the wide central hall. Harry hesitated, then decided to avoid giving notice of their presence for the moment.

"Come! We'll go around to the front," she said to Elizabeth.

They made their way to the left and around the corner of the big house to the front of it. Harry hesitated, seeing no one about. But then, suddenly, a boil of men issued forth from the big gray stone building on the east side of the yard, and headed right toward the house.

Harry, a premonition of disaster spurring her, grabbed Elizabeth's arm and pulled her down, and the two of them scrambled into the crawlspace under the veranda. From there they had an excellent view of the group of men, hauling a trussed, bloody, and barely conscious unfortunate between them. The group stopped in front of the veranda, dropping their captive in the dirt.

One of the men sprang up the steps and called into the house. "_Cray!_"

There was a sound of booted feet coming from the house and out onto the veranda. "What in the name of all that's unholy is this?" said a cool, aristocratic voice.

The man who had spoken, presumably Cray, came down the steps and into view. He was a big, floridly handsome fellow with a livid scar on his right cheek, and he casually approached the prisoner, looking down at him with eyes as cold as iron. The bound man blinked blearily, and then Cray picked up his foot and slowly, deliberately stepped on the wounded arm, and the victim screamed under the gag covering his mouth, his eyes bulging, face purple. Finally his tormentor let him go.

"Cut his gag," Cray said. One of his henchmen complied with alacrity. Cray looked down at the prisoner, who was now breathing in whimpering gasps. "Tell me: is Judah gone?" Cray asked, his voice smooth as a snake's skin.

The prisoner looked up at Cray fearfully, and, making a huge effort, gasped, "T-two fellas…strangers…came. Tried to take 'em…they'd swords, though."

"So I see," said Cray. "And Judah?"

"Th-they took 'im, right enough."

Cray stared down at the man, and frowned, raising one brow. "Really?" said Cray again. "Well. You seem to have got the worst of their swords, Mr. Watts. How unfortunate. Such wounds can grow septic, you know, without proper treatment. Lads, take Mr. Watts back to the smithy. I'll see to him after dinner."

Several of the men picked up the unfortunate Mr. Watts, who shrieked, "No! Cray! _Cray!_" and then was silenced by a blow to his temple.

Cray addressed the rest of his men, saying, "It seems we have some unwanted visitors to our fair island, gentlemen. Williams and Dodd can stay here with me. Forsythe and North: take a little hike out to the west cove and see if there is any evidence of the intruders. Make it quick. Hastings and Waters: go out to the village and make sure all is calm there. The rest of you, to your sentry posts, and be on the alert. We may have a little amusement in store tonight."

Under the veranda, Harry and Elizabeth watched Cray go back into the house, and the men disperse to their appointed tasks. The ladies were trembling, both of them as white as their shirts. Harry saw several men take up positions well within sight of the house and knew then that she and Elizabeth were trapped where they were until the sentries should move again. God only knew when that would be. Harry put her forehead to the cool earth, and, cursing herself for a fool, prayed that they could get out of this without any of her friends and dear ones being hurt. And if Jack wished to beat her, so be it: as long as they were safe from this monster and his henchmen.

o-o-o

"Shouldn't we split up and look for them?" Will asked impatiently, looking out from the heavy shadows where he was hidden along with Jack, Gibbs, and several other members of the _Black Pearl's_ crew. Night had fallen, and a full Caribbean moon was rising behind the plantation compound, a golden monstrosity just peeking over the trees and housetop. At least they'd have adequate light, if it came to fighting.

"No!" snapped Jack: it was the third time Will had rephrased the question. "They're here close somewhere. I know it. Probably hiding 'til they can make a run for it."

"_How_ do you know? My God, they could be anywhere!" This business of keeping quietly hidden when he wanted to be up and doing was very hard for Will to bear when Elizabeth was in danger.

"Just a feelin': get 'em sometimes, and I've learned to listen to 'em--like waitin' for the opportune moment. Now stow it, savvy?"

Will gave a grunt of reluctant acquiescence. Earlier, they had traveled half the distance from the ship to the plantation compound when they'd happened on the two men Cray had sent to check the hidden cove. The pirates had left the two trussed like Christmas geese, under a large flowering tree and behind some shrubbery. Jack had led his men more warily after that, but they'd gained this heavily wooded spot in view of the house and outbuildings with no interference. They'd noted the sentries Cray had posted all around the compound immediately, and Will had been much afraid Elizabeth and her aunt had already been caught. Jack, however, reminded him of the guard they'd incapacitated a few hours back, and moreover begged him to take note of the presence of Cray and two of his cronies, sitting at a table on the veranda, finishing their supper in a leisurely manner. Jack thought perhaps even Cray would show a bit more excitement if he'd captured two beautiful, high-born women. Moreover, what with the sentries and the diners, it would be nigh impossible for Harry and Elizabeth to escape undetected, if they were hidden anywhere near the house. Will absently fingered the hilt of his sword, thinking of what he'd have to say to his betrothed if they all came out of this safely. As for Elizabeth's aunt, well, Jack could deal with her in whatever manner he chose, and welcome!

There was some activity now, both by the house and by the whipping post in front of the gray stone building where they'd found Judah. It soon became obvious that Jack's remark about the villains watching the "entertainment" from the veranda was all too accurate. The three on the veranda pushed back their plates and settled themselves to watch as a slave was brought out and tied to the post across the yard. A muscular thug holding a many-thonged whip came out of the stone workshop. The slave maintained a stoic silence, but the hair rose on the back of Will's neck as the thug began his work, the sound of leather against flesh loud enough to be heard above the conversation and laughter from the veranda.

"My God," Will muttered, sickened.

"God's got nothin' to do with this," Gibbs said, grimly.

Jack was silent, but watchful, for several of the posted sentries had begun to wander away from their places to better view the activities in the yard. The west end of the house seemed suddenly free from close observation, and lo and behold!-- two figures could be seen wiggling out from the west end of the crawlspace under the veranda.

"There they are!" said Jack in a sharp whisper.

Every eye in the rescue party was suddenly turned in that direction.

The ladies were seen to rise to their feet and turned to run away toward the back of the house, but there came a shouted alarm from that direction--one of Cray's thugs had proved alert and had stayed at his post.

The ladies turned around and ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction, cutting straight across the courtyard toward the forest, and the rescue party if they'd only known it. But the diligent sentry had raised the alarm now, and the distance was too great. There were more shouts, and weapons drawn, and Cray's men raced to cut off the escapees' route. On the veranda, the three men stood up to watch the impromptu pursuit.

There was nothing for it now. "Go!" Jack shouted and sprang forward, leading the others. Will cried, "Elizabeth!" and Jack cursed him for a fool for possibly foiling the ladies' disguise. God's teeth! If they were captured...

Elizabeth and Harry had heard, and saw them now, and ran toward their rescuers as fast as their legs would carry them. The sentries were closing in, but Elizabeth sprinted forward and burst past Jack, gaining the safety of Will's quick embrace.

But Harry was not as lucky. Having fallen a little behind, she suddenly found herself cut off by several sentries coming at her from the right. Her panicked eye met Jack's for the briefest moment before she was forced to veer off to the left, ducking under the arm of one ruffian, and narrowly avoiding the knife of another.

"Get back to the ship!" Jack shouted to the others, who were trying to fight off a number of the enemy and back toward the relative safety of the trees while protecting Elizabeth. Jack turned and ran after Harry, mercilessly incapacitating one sentry and seriously wounding two more before he caught sight of her again. She was caught now, two thugs wresting her knife from her, though she drew blood from both as they did so, and a third one grabbed her from behind, his arm going around her middle. She bucked and kicked furiously, but there were no telltale sounds of feminine distress, nor any oaths either, thank God. Jack, besieged with enemies, fought his way toward her, thinking for a moment he just might succeed. But then a half-dozen additional men entered the fray, and suddenly Cray was there, watching his henchmen gather around the pirate to disarm him. He did some damage to them, but even Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't hope to win against so many, and at last the sword was wrested from his hand. They took hold of him, none too gently, and dragged him before Cray, to whom they presented the sword. Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw two other thugs jerk Harry up beside him, her face smudged and pale, her jaw set.

"My goodness, what have we here?" Cray said laughter in his voice. "Jack Sparrow and company, as I live! How good of you to pay me a visit! I vow, it must be a dozen years since we've met—and really, I hardly recognized you at first. The hair is quite a good disguise, and so interesting, too! But come: don't tell me you didn't know I was here!"

"Oh, I knew!" said Jack smoothly. "Couldn't mistake your signature on the old fella we fished from the water this morning, could I?"

"You found old Jacob!" exclaimed Cray, and eyed some of his men bodingly. "Well, that is most disconcerting, as I'd ordered him _buried_ after we'd had our fun with him, hmmmm?" The men shuffled nervously, but Cray turned again to Jack. "I expect you did recognize the work, having had that little sample yourself all those years ago. Those East India men were so damned soft. A bit of branding, a short flogging, and _hey, presto!_ You're back to wreaking havoc on the high seas. Or perhaps havoc's the wrong word: I seem to have heard almost as much of your humorously noble doings as I have of your looting, pillaging and rapine. Jack, really! In some quarters you barely qualify as a pirate!"

"Ah, well. I wouldn't believe everything you hear, Cray," Jack said easily.

"Oh, I always take such tales with a grain of salt, I assure you. That's why I have no doubt you are deserving of the delights I have in store for you on the morrow. I have my second chance you see, and this time without the merciful and officious East India men looking over my shoulder. Believe me, I intend to take full advantage of it!" Cray smiled and flicked his cold eyes at Harry, and gestured to her with Jack's sword. "And you've brought me a little one, to add to my enjoyment! So thoughtful of you."

Jack's heart froze at the thought of the man touching Harry, but he said as lightly as he could manage, "The boy's done nothing. You have me. Let him go."

"But why should I?" returned Cray. "He's as much a trespasser as you, old son. And you so obviously care for him, too! None of that 'falls behind, left behind' business, although the rest of your crew seems to have taken the Code to heart, eh? But this boy: he's certainly a pretty one! Really, I had no idea you were of that…persuasion. Rumor seems to have lied all these years, which should make our activities tomorrow all the more interesting! No, the boy stays, and in fact I'll extend to the two of you a taste of that same Noble Mercy for which you may or may not be justly famous. I have other things to attend to tonight. It certainly won't harm you to ruminate on coming events for a few hours. Stone? Marks? Take a couple of the others and cage our little birds for the night, please. Don't bother tying them: we'll let them have a last night of pleasure, eh? Never let it be said that Cray stands in the way of True Love."

There was general laughter from everyone but Jack and Harry at this. Then Stone, a giant of a man with an evil, toothless smile, and a second red-haired brute each grabbed one of Jack's arms and half-dragged him away in the direction of the grim stone building. Marks, another giant, with a strangely vacant expression, picked Harry up bodily, like a sack of grain, and lumbered along after them.

The party made their way around the side of the stone building, to where a stairway opened, leading underground. Jack and Harry were bumped and scraped to the bottom of this stair, hauled through a doorway and dragged along a stone passage to where a trap door lay in the floor. Stone held Jack as the red-haired brute grabbed hold of the iron ring in the trapdoor and raised it, with some effort. It opened on more stone stairs fading into a black pit.


	23. Caged

**Chapter 23: _Caged_**

****

"In ye go, Pirate," Stone said, cheerfully, hauling Jack down a few steps and then chucking him into the darkness. Harry heard him give a grunt of pain as he landed. Then it was her turn, and the stupid Marks thrust her toward Stone. The man picked her up with horrifying ease, and called to Jack as they descended, "And here's yer little luv, come to keep ye company—don't be keepin' us awake wi' yer rogerin', now."

She was thrown into the darkness, and how she bit back her scream of terror would forever be a mystery.

Her landing was far softer than she'd feared it would be, as she thudded onto Jack, who'd been trying to rise from the floor. He half caught her, gasping an oath as he fell back, but immediately thrust her aside and struggled to his feet.

Surprisingly, they could see. The pit was faintly lit by the rays of the rising moon, coming down through high barred windows. Jack got up half the stairs before the trapdoor was slammed shut. There was the sound of rude laughter and a heavy bolt being shot home. He continued up, anyway, and tested the door's strength, but it was no good. Muttering heartfelt profanity, he came back down the stairs, noting Harry's frightened expression with grim satisfaction.

Harry had scrambled to her feet. After such a fall, it seemed nothing short of miraculous that the two of them were uninjured, although she suspected they would both be sore and bruised later. The moonlight showed many details of their surroundings, but Harry, observing the look on Jack's face with considerable trepidation, stayed well out of his way as he carefully investigated their prison.

There wasn't much to see. It was apparently an old storeroom, empty of goods just now, about twelve feet square with walls that were thick, smooth, and very solid. There was no door, save that through which they'd entered, and no windows save those that admitted the golden moonlight. Altogether as snug and secure a lockup as Jack had ever graced with his presence.

He soon gave it up. He sat down against the wall opposite his cellmate's, stretched his booted legs out before him, crossed his arms, and glared at her.

Harry stammered, "Wh-why didn't you tell me about Cray?"

"And what bloody good would that have done?" Jack retorted, bitterly.

She winced. It was quite true, of course. She had been most determined to see her property--and, yes, to simply have her way. It was unlikely she would have listened to him, no matter what he'd told her. Harry had been in the way of thinking that, at the ripe age of thirty, she had left behind the spoiled ingenue that had been her younger self. It was apparent she'd been mistaken in this assumption.

She said, in a small voice, "You are probably right, of course. I…I'm sorry."

He gave a bark of entirely humorless laughter.

She sagged, momentarily defeated. Apologies were useless, after all, and, indeed, almost mocked their dire situation. She slid down her wall and sat on the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms about them. It was strangely cold in this cellar and she didn't have a coat; Owens's worn linen shirt, waistcoat, and breeches were quite inadequate and still rather damp, besides. She glanced at Jack, found that he was still eyeing her blackly, and looked away again. She shivered.

After what seemed a very long time, he spoke, his voice low and menacing. "Harry. Come over here"

She looked up, a knot of fear twisting in the pit of her stomach. She hesitated, but...no: he wouldn't! Not here, not now. Perhaps not ever, if she knew him as she suspected she did. Still, she found it necessary to gather her courage before getting to her feet and walking over to him. She stopped a little out of his reach (just in case) and crouched on her haunches, forcing herself to meet his eyes: not an easy task. "Y-yes?" she inquired, inwardly cursing her nervous stammer. There was another heavy silence as they considered each other.

And then, his face still stony, Jack held open one side of his big coat. "Come sit with me. I'm cold."

Surprise, and then relief set her heart beating again. She swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. Not trusting herself to speak, she carefully crawled up beside him and turned, awkwardly settling herself against him. But then his arm and coat wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her close, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She gave a little sigh of pleasure at the feel of him, all warmth and lean, hard muscle.

"Bloody hell," he groused, "You're like a block of ice."

She smiled slightly. After a moment she said: "Jack?"

"What?"

"Do you think Monty's dead?"

Jack hesitated a moment before replying simply, "He is. Judah, a slave we brought back to the _Pearl_ as your 'evidence', told us."

"Oh," she said. She had never liked her nephew much, but he had certainly not deserved death at the hands of such as Cray, and she bit her lip as sorrow washed through her. And Jack had known this. He had known Cray before--had suffered at the villain's hands! He had come for her, had led Will and his crew into danger to rescue her and Elizabeth, and he had stayed when it had all gone awry. He had risked everything. For her.

She felt tears stinging in back of her eyes, and stiffened immediately. Not the time to subject him to feminine mewlings, something she despised in any case! She cleared her throat slightly and said in a jesting tone, "I thought perhaps you were going to thrash me just now." Her voice shook only very slightly.

Jack drawled in a soft voice, "I know you did. Have to admit it's a great temptation, seein' the way your sweet little arse looks in those breeches. All in good time though. It'll sustain me spirits, having something to look forward to when we get back to the _Pearl_."

She gave a weak laugh, but managed to say in a hopeful tone: "You think we'll get back then?"

Jack smiled, crookedly. "We'll get back. The question is: will we still be in one piece?"

As if in reply, a distant but bloodcurdling shriek sounded from somewhere above. Harry gasped, horrified, and Jack's arm tightened around her. They both stared, wide-eyed at the trapdoor in the gloom overhead, as though it would reveal the source of the dreadful sound. It came again, and then again, and then there was sudden silence.

"Poor devil passed out, I expect," Jack commented after a moment.

"What do you think they were doing to him?" Harry asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Don't know. Branded, maybe, One of Cray's favorite pastimes," he said, thinking of the dreadful workroom where he and Will had found Judah.

"Branded!" She immediately thought of Jack's pirate brand, that Cray claimed to have given him. "Did…did you faint?"

"What? When I got this?" he said, raising his arm so that his coat sleeve and the lace on his shirt fell back to reveal the scar. "Wasn't that lucky."

Harry reached out, and Jack obligingly gave her his wrist. "Does it still hurt?" she asked, gently touching the scar with a cool finger.

"No. Sometimes." He shook the sleeve down to cover it again. He took her cold hand in a light clasp and settled back against the wall. She curled against him, turning her hand and twining her fingers with his.

He squeezed her hand slightly. "Tryin' to turn me up sweet, then?"

She smiled. "Trying!" she acknowledged. They sat in companionable silence for a while. Then she asked, "Do you think they know who I am, then? That I'm a woman?"

"No. And you keep mum, or you'll be facing _Worse Than Death_, as your brother puts it."

"But…then why did they say…"

"I know what they said. Never you mind about it." He felt her stiffen. "I'll tell you later, when we get back to the _Pearl_. You can remind me."

"Oh, very well," she muttered, not pleased but trying to be cooperative. She gave a short laugh. "_Worse Than Death_! That's a bit dramatic, even for my brother. I take it you mean Cray would…ah…ravish me."

"Aye. That would be it," said Jack, grimly.

"Well, I mean…it's unpleasant certainly, but I wouldn't say it was _Worse Than Death_."

He gave her an odd, sidelong look. "It ain't the same as what a husband does with his wife."

"No? How would it be different?"

"God's life, the questions you ask," he muttered. "He—or _they!_--would be meaning to hurt you as much possible. Savvy?"

There was a tone in his voice that made her wince inwardly. "Oh."

He squeezed her hand a little. _Unpleasant!_ he thought, frowning. "What sort of fellow was this duke of yours, anyway?"

"Charles? Oh, well…he was sixty, you know, when we married."

"Sixty! And you just a chit out of the schoolroom?"

"Oh no! I was twenty—nearly 'on the shelf'!" She smiled at his derisive snort. "Not that I hadn't had quite a few very gratifying offers," she added, her tone indicating just how gratifying they had been to her.

"Good God. They can't all have been slow tops!"

"Oh, yes. Charles was too, of course, but he had the title and money, so I did it, for my freedom as I told you before. And to oblige my family: the Dutiful Daughter. The settlements were exceptionally generous. George had got rather deeply into debt, and...well, there were other things." She felt rather than saw his frown and added, "It's not at all unusual, you know."

"I know. Hard to imagine you consenting to something quite that usual, however. So why did old Charles marry you? Other than the obvious reasons, of course."

"Obvious?"

"Fishin' for compliments?"

"No! I suppose you mean that I was well-born, and bred to be a lady. And pretty enough, although brown hair and eyes are hardly the fashion. And I'm too short. I really don't know what he saw in me: I was not at all the style of female he usually favored: Diamonds of the First Water, I assure you! He did want an heir, of course, and he needed a young woman and a legitimate marriage for that. His first duchess had died years before, and they'd had only the one son. When he died suddenly, Charles felt the need to produce another, to cut Monty out of the running. It…didn't work out, but he managed to have the will altered in his cousin's favor, anyway, and he left as much as he could to me, as well, including St. Claire Island! I felt that was quite nice of him—we hadn't got on very well when he was alive."

"What? He didn't think you too headstrong?" he asked, mocking.

She smiled, but said, "He didn't think of me much at all, really, after the few months. A development for which I was most thankful, I assure you. He was lacking somewhat in...ah...romantic skills. Or perhaps it was me. I never really…_took to it_, you know. At any rate, he had kept a…a mistress…before we were married, and, too, was much addicted to hunting. So, when I didn't show any sign of producing the required _petite package_, he returned to his old pursuits and rarely bothered me."

There was a momentary silence, as Jack considered this ingenuous speech. She spoke lightly, but he could sense the pain that lay behind the words. When she remained silent he prompted, "And then…?"

"He died," she said, simply. She glanced up at him, his profile faint in the dim light, and elaborated in a decidedly uncultured accent, "Took a toss at a regular stitcher, an' stuck 'is spoon in the wall!"

He smiled, and said with mock severity: "More cant terms, my girl?"

She smiled, too. "Yes! Comes of hanging about the stables overmuch, I daresay."

"Very unladylike. Not that that would weigh with you, God knows."

"Well, it's quite tiresome trying to behave like a lady all the time."

"I don't doubt it. Still, we might be safe back on the _Black Pearl_ this minute if you'd made more of an effort in that regard."

He spoke lightly, but she knew a scold when she heard one, and moreover quite saw the justice of it. She said in a small voice: "Yes. But you shouldn't have said…what you did."

To her surprise, he replied, "I know. Couldn't seem to help meself. Not that it's a bad idea mind you. Just shouldn't have said it just then: bound to set you off."

"I think it's a dreadful idea," said Harry, and had to make an effort not to squirm uncomfortably as a mental picture asserted itself. She said, stiffly, "I'm surprised at you for thinking of such a thing!"

Jack squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb lightly over her knuckles. "Well, you shouldn't be. You must realize I've lately been struck with a number of excellent notions involving various portions of your anatomy. Mostly a bit more…pleasurable than that, of course. For you, at least."

"Oh, indeed!" she said, her voice rather constricted, grateful for the shadows that hid her burning cheeks.

"Aye. But I'd best not be thinkin' of 'em now, or you'll need to go sit across the room again. Go to sleep for a bit, if you can, love."

She sighed, a little shakily, but said only, "Aye, Captain!" in Owens' respectful accents, and smiled at his slight laugh.

o-o-o

Some time later, Jack sat in wakeful silence, contemplating the armful of Dowager Duchess sleeping against his side. She was a force to be reckoned with, that was certain. Foolish and wise by turns; cynical and worldly one moment and innocent as a maid the next; full of fun and high spirits, and temperamental as a little shrew. How it had happened in four days he couldn't say, but for better or worse there was no denying it: he loved her.

And maybe it hadn't even taken that long. Maybe it had been true right from the start, at the Bride's Auction. He smiled crookedly in the darkness, thinking of the picture she'd made standing up there, looking defiantly out at the crowd, seemingly unafraid. And when he'd kissed her! She had been a little afraid then, and momentarily stunned, quivering slightly in his arms as he'd drunk in her sweetness. Maybe she'd been his from that moment

Or at least as much his as was possible in their world. His life was bound up with the sea and the _Black Pearl_, and had been for so long that he could not even imagine another way to live. Her life was vastly different, a life of riches and indulgence, barely constrained by the manners and mores of society. Although, if she was indeed planning to stay out here, live on St. Claire, it was possible that their separate worlds could occasionally draw together in the happiest fashion.

He knew, and she probably strongly suspected, that he wouldn't carry out his threat to beat her, in spite of the disastrous consequences of her headstrong behavior. Oh, she deserved it, sure enough. She knew that, too. But it fair turned his stomach to think of hurting her. And, as he'd told Elizabeth once, he admired those who were willing to do what was necessary to gain their own ends. Of course, Harry had not realized that in this case it would put their very lives in jeopardy. He still felt that he'd not handled the situation well, knowing her as he did. He should have taken the time to tell her about his old enemy, to make her understand. Though she had said the knowledge wouldn't have made a difference, he thought it very likely would have done.

Of course there was Owens. Maybe he would thrash her, just a little, for that. A terrible thing to do to the lad! Although Owens actually hadn't seemed so very upset about it, to say the truth. Jack chuckled inwardly, picturing Owens all tied with scarves, and the mess Harry'd made of his cabin. She was a devil to go, when she got the bit between her teeth, sure enough.

No, what he really wanted more than anything was to take her to his bed, and to make exquisite love to her, using time and patience and the skills he'd gleaned from a hundred chance encounters to make her his own. _Unpleasant!_ Ha! They'd see about that. Provided they escaped their present predicament, of course.

He was fairly sure they would. He knew that his friends and his crew would be planning a timely rescue even now, the Code not withstanding. But would it be timely enough? They could only wait and see. At least they knew now that Cray had only about a dozen men left to carry out his hideous cruelties, though they were ruthless sorts, and well-armed, too. Counting the _Pearl's_ crew and the island's slave population, their side had three or four times that number and, armed with weapons from the arms chest of the _Black Pearl_, they should have no trouble defeating the villains.

Harry stirred against his side, slumping down slightly in an effort to lay more comfortably prone. He decided to both accommodate her wishes and try to get some rest himself. He gathered some straw into a pile to use as a pillow and lay down, drawing her delightfully close and wrapping his coat around them both. She didn't wake, but rubbed her head against his shoulder and took a handful of his shirt in her fist. He smiled and closed his eyes to the darkness surrounding them.


	24. Uprising

**Chapter 24: _Uprising_**

****

"Will! _Will!_ We have to go back!" Elizabeth gasped for the second time.

Will ignored her, just kept his hand tight around her wrist and pulled her after him as quickly as he could.

They were in the midst of the rescue party, moving at a quick pace through the moonlit, forested landscape that lay between the plantation and the cove where the _Black Pearl_ was anchored. They seemed to have left pursuit behind, and Elizabeth was nearly frantic thinking of her aunt and Jack in Cray's clutches. What might he be doing to them even now?

"Will!" she tried again, "We can't leave them there!" And this time she tried to stop, pulling back from him.

He let out an exasperated oath, which was so unusual that she started in surprise. "Gibbs!" he said, low but sharp, "Wait for us!" and, to her astonishment, he hustled her quite ungently into the shadow of a huge tree about ten feet off the path, gripped her upper arms in his hands and gave her a little shake.

"_Will!_"

"Be _quiet!_" he said in a fierce whisper. "Don't you understand? There are too many of them! We have to get more help, more weapons. Do you think I wanted to leave them?"

"I…then we are going back? We're not 'following the Code'?"

"We're following orders! Didn't you hear Jack say 'Back to the ship!'?"

"Yes, of course, but…"

"But nothing. We're getting you to safety, more men and arms, and going back! All right?"

"Yes. All right," she replied, but her brow wrinkled in worry at this course of action.

His hands tightened further and he said angrily, "God, I could murder you for listening to your aunt!" But his action did not suit his words at all. To her shocked surprise, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely, his hand cupping her face, holding her there for a moment, before slipping down to her waist as she recovered and began to return his rough embrace. This sort of behavior was entirely uncharacteristic of her gentle betrothed, and her heart leapt in delight.

He finally ended the kiss, but only to whisper in her ear: "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, her voice shaking. She hugged him as hard as she could, then looked up and said, "I'm sorry."

"You should be," he said fondly, and kissed her again.

"Turner!" It was Gibbs. "O'Brien's back!"

Will released Elizabeth abruptly, saying to her, "We left O'Brien hidden back there to watch what happened."

Will took her wrist again and drew her after him out of the shadows to join the others as O'Brien trotted up, out of breath.

The man bent, leaning his hands on his knees for a moment, then straightened and gasped, "All's well, for the moment: Cray said he'd other business tonight, and had them taken off somewhere 'til morning. Neither of 'em are hurt."

"Saints be praised!" Gibbs exclaimed happily. "We'll see 'em safe yet, an' that bastard Cray done to death by morning. Beggin' yer pardon, Miss Elizabeth."

"He is a bastard," she said. "Entirely appropriate use of language, Mr. Gibbs."

"Aye. It is, isn't it? O'Brien: ready for another bit of a trot?"

O'Brien gave a weary chuckle. "Ready! Let's get back to the _Pearl_."

o-o-o

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Anamaria, "You left 'em with Cray?"

The rescue party had reached the cove and had piled into the longboat on the little beach, rowing quickly out to the _Black Pearl_ where it lay brooding in the moonlight, without its Captain. The whole rest of the crew was on deck to greet them, but were filled with dismay to hear what Gibbs had told them.

"Aye, they're taken," said Gibbs, "But O'Brien here says Cray had 'em thrown in a hole for the night—had other things to do first, it seems—so we've a bit of time. Not much, but it'll have to be enough."

"How many of 'em are there?" Anamaria demanded. "We'll have to leave some crew here to guard the _Pearl_. That means we've maybe fifteen to set against those devil's minions."

But Judah said: "Not so. If they can be armed, my people will rise up to aid you. I'm certain of it."

"That'd be a help, sure enough," Gibbs exclaimed. "How many would there be? We can arm a good many, but we don't want to put women an' kids in harm's way."

"There are at least thirty men who could help. A few might not be well enough: Cray's been busy lately. But there are surely enough to defeat Cray's men, joined with your crew."

"You still haven't said how many we're facing," Anamaria pointed out impatiently.

Gibbs said, "We've killed a couple and wounded a few. But I'd say there are at least a dozen left, and maybe a few more than that. _And_ they're well armed, _and_ they know the place, where we don't."

"My people know the place all too well," said Judah. "This looks to be a hopeful situation, Miss Anamaria. Let's get started. It will take time to gather my people, and arm them."

"Aye, let's get moving then," Ana agreed, calmed by Judah's assurance, and ready now to do what was necessary to rescue Jack and his wayward lady. No one was going to lay a hand on Jack Sparrow if she could help it! Other than herself, occasionally, of course.

Gibbs nodded briefly and began to choose those who would stay behind with the ship. "The rest of you: get below and bring up the bulk of the weapons. We'll have need of anything we can spare to arm Judah's people." He strode toward the companionway to descend to Jack's cabin, knowing there were knives and perhaps swords stashed there, beautifully made things that had caught Jack's eye on their various raids.

The cabin had been mostly straightened since the departure of the rescue party, the broken glass cleaned up, the clothing put back in the closets and chests.

"Mr. Gibbs!"

Gibbs turned and smiled at Owens, who was standing in the doorway. "Did you clean up after the ladies, lad?"

"Aye. I thought the Captain might not be so…so angry with 'em. He likes his things stowed away neat."

"He does that. Ye did a fine job."

"But, Mr. Gibbs: will they be all right, do y'think?" Owens voice trailed off to the edge of tears.

But Gibbs came to him and shook his thin shoulder slightly. "Now lad, none o' that. They're going to be fine, provided we can get to 'em in time. You can help here: you've been takin' care o' this cabin for a couple of weeks now. Help me go through an' get all the weapons we can find, will ye?"

"Aye, I can do that," agreed Owens, now calmer, and determined.

"Good lad," said Gibbs, patting the boy's back.

The two of them quickly set to work.

o-o-o

"I'm going with you," said Elizabeth firmly, then added in a more pleading tone, "Please?" when her betrothed turned to her, a look of impatience on his intent face.

"Elizabeth…" he began, but she cut him off.

"You know I've a cool head in a fight. And I promise I'll be careful."

Will thought back to the final fight with Barbossa's men on the Isla de Muerta, and had to agree that she had conducted herself exceptionally well. In fact, he thought ruefully, he might well be dead now if she hadn't come when she did. He'd done all right himself against the undead, but that was the thing: they didn't bloody die! Just came coming at you over and over, unless one blew them apart. Which he had been able to do, finally, with her help. Yes, she was good in a fight.

"All right," he said, and smiled at the way her face lit up at his unexpectedly easy acquiescence. "But stay close to me, and if I tell you to do something, you do it with no questions asked. Savvy?" He grinned.

"Savvy!" She grinned back.

He gave her a quick, hard kiss, and released her just as quickly. "Let's go!"


	25. Enemy

**Chapter 25: _Enemy_**

****

Jack and Harry both slept, surprisingly deeply, until the thin, cool light of dawn began to filter down through the high barred windows of the storeroom. Harry woke first, from a lovely dream, a sigh and a smile on her lips, and her eyes drifted half open. She found that she was lying in Jack's arms, very close against him, her head on his shoulder, his coat around them both. This seemed to be in keeping with her dream, somehow, and she lay still, studying the dear face for a time in the dim morning light, until his eyes opened too, and looked into hers for a long moment. She reached up, then, feeling she must touch that face, lay her palm against the brown cheek. But in that moment sounds came to then that brought back the exigencies of their situation: crude talk, laughter, and footsteps growing closer. Bliss vanished, and, all unprepared, sudden terror gripped her. "Jack!" she gasped, panicking, clutching at his shirt.

Jack wondered if their friends had indeed deserted them, for it was now many hours since they'd been thrown into this prison, but he thrust the thought aside and mastered his own startled fear quickly. "Courage, now, Harry!" he said roughly, giving her a little shake. She nodded, biting her lip, her eyes huge. "You let me do the talking!" he told her, his face hard. "Not a word, no matter what happens! Savvy?"

"Yes," she said, but was obviously distracted, for the sounds were very close now and someone was fooling with the trapdoor.

"Promise me!" he said in a fierce whisper, shaking her again.

She looked into his eyes as she briefly considered this, then said unhappily, "I _can't!_"

The bolt was thrown on the trapdoor. "God's life! Just don't do anything stupid!" he groaned. Then they were scrambling to their feet. The trapdoor creaked open on its hinges. Harry, standing a little behind Jack, reached up and quickly pulled out a few stray pieces of straw that had got stuck in his hair and brushed more bits from his coat, then stood peeking around his shoulder, her heart in her mouth.

It was Cray himself that looked down at them through the trapdoor, a pistol in either hand. He descended the stone stairs with studied nonchalance, followed by Marks, who bore rope and Stone who was armed with a cutlass.

"Well, my birds! Have you had a pleasant rest?" said Cray, cheerfully, aiming one pistol at Jack's head.

"Aye, we did," Jack drawled, "although I must say, the accommodations do seem to be somewhat lacking."

Cray smiled broadly. "Ah, Sparrow. You and your ready tongue! I'd forgotten about that. Last evening you seemed nearly to have lost your sense of humor. A night alone with your pretty lad seems to have restored it! Perhaps I'll try him out myself a little later. You won't mind, will you? Stone, take the boy aside there."

Stone carefully eased around Jack, staying out of the line of fire, and reached for Harry, who started to back away, but then halted at the sound of the pistol being cocked, She looked over at Cray.

"That's right, boy. A little cooperation if you please, or your Captain will find a rather nasty hole in him. Take him, Stone."

Harry set her teeth as the villain reached for her again, shuddering as he took her arm in a meaty hand, She found herself pulled away from Jack, and held about five feet from him. Stone laid the edge of the cutlass against her throat, the metal cold against her skin.

"Now, Sparrow: if you'd be so good as to remove your clothing. Not the boots and breeches. Yet. But all the rest, if you please." When the pirate hesitated, Cray added silkily, "Unless, of course, you'd prefer I start with the boy."

Harry kept her face carefully expressionless as she watched Jack take off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, dropping each to the floor, her eyes silently taking in her first sight of him unclothed. He was very beautifully made, slim but hard with muscle, his skin bronzed from the sun, although she suspected he'd be as fair as she was herself under different circumstances. But there were other things that drew the eye: tattoos of a varied and exotic nature that decorated his upper body and arms. And the scars. Scars that spoke of truly dreadful encounters; of hands that had caused him excruciating pain with brand, or whip, or blade; of other hands that had both hurt and helped him, removing a bullet, stitching closed a saber cut. She was horrified and fascinated all at once.

As was, revoltingly, Cray.

The man stepped up to Jack and, pushing the end of the pistol beneath the chin with its little beaded braids, tipped the pirate's face up slightly. For a long moment the two men studied each other, Jack's dark eyes ice cold, Cray's sickeningly warm as he smiled down at his intended prey.

"Why you're a pretty lad, too, aren't you, Sparrow?" said Cray, his voice like velvet. He watched Jack's lip quiver ever so slightly in disgust and smiled. "I think we may have to consider trying you out as well. Later."

Cray stepped back then, but kept the pistol trained on Jack. "Wrists, Sparrow! Marks: tie him."

Marks came over with the rope, and, there being nothing for it, Jack held up his hands, wrists together, to be tightly tied in front of him, his face set like stone.

"Good," said Cray, when Marks stepped back. "Bring them along."

Cray led the way up the stairs. Marks took Jack's arm in one ham-like hand and pulled him along after his leader, moving quickly. Stone turned Harry around by her arm and she found herself tossed over his shoulder, rather as he would have done with a sack of grain. He trotted up the stairs in the wake of his cohorts, and she bounced uncomfortably against his hard shoulder.

As Jack had feared, their destination was the smithy where he and Will had found Judah. The wooden frame was waiting, and there were irons in the fire.

"Bring our bird over here and hang him up, Marks," Cray said, blithely, gesturing with the pistol.

Jack managed to catch Harry's eye for the briefest second as Stone set her back on her feet, trying to will her to silence, and suddenly regretting that he had not told her outright that rescue might be imminent. Although, it was getting to be late days for it now, he thought grimly.

As the thug Marks pulled him roughly toward the wooden frame, Jack decided to make an attempt to at least delay the apparently inevitable.

"Cray, wait!" said Jack. "Perhaps we can come to an accord here. I've a good deal to bargain with, y'know."

"Do you?" Cray sounded amused. "What, then?"

Marks stopped, and Jack went on in his most persuasive tones. "I have the bearings to the greatest treasure in the Caribbean: Isla de Muerta. Barbossa an' his crew stored ten years o' swag there, not to mention all that was there before they came. Of course there's the little matter of the curse on that chest of Aztec gold, but really, there's plenty to be had without touchin' that bit, unless you've a fancy to try immortality. It's an interesting feelin', I'll grant you. A bit odd, seein' yer bones and all, but one could grow accustomed-like, eh? What do you think? You let me an' the boy go, an' I'll take you to the richest treasure you've ever seen, bar none."

Cray looked at Jack, and chuckled softly. "Jack, old son! You do spin an excellent yarn. Indeed, I may even let you show me this Isla de Muerta, presently. Presently. But not just now. No. Not just now. Hang him up, Marks.

Jack made a sudden move to get away from the huge man, but was given a cuff on the side of his head that brought little spots to his eyes for the effort. Then his wrists were pulled up in Marks' hands and the man lifted him by them and hung him by the rope bindings on the big iron hook in the center of the crossbeam of the frame, his booted feet barely able to touch the stone floor.

"Thank you, Marks," said Cray, smoothly. "Go outside and guard the door, now, there's a good lad." He watched Marks trot off and slip out the door, shutting it behind him. He turned to look at Harry, standing in front of Stone, the beefy hand on her arm and the cutlass ready. He smiled. "And so it begins, little one."

Cray walked calmly over to the forge and picked up one of the metal rods that were stuck into the glowing heart of the fire. He held it up. The end of it glowed red, smoking slightly. Cray smiled, and, turning, walked slowly toward Jack.

Jack went quite pale under his tan.

Harry, however, had a much more extreme reaction. The control that she had been exerting over her emotions at Jack's behest, snapped utterly.

"No!" she screamed, and, terror lending her strength, turned like lightning and slammed her fist in Stone's eye. Fortunately, in his absorption with Cray's activities, the thug had foolishly loosened his hold on her, and allowed his cutlass to sag, so this sudden attack was a resounding success. Stone gave a yell of pain, releasing both Harry's arm and the cutlass, and he fell back a step, nursing his eye. Harry grabbed up his discarded weapon and bolted across the room toward Cray, shrieking, "_I am the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham and by God if you touch him I shall see you flayed alive!_"

"Harry!" gasped Jack in horror, then shouted, "Harry, no!" and struggled uselessly against the ropes that bound him.

But she was beyond hearing him.

The little fury raised the cutlass to attack Cray, who'd turned toward her, his countenance brightening with surprise and delight at her words. He threw up the heated brand and parried her first blow (which would, indeed, have been deadly) with ease, sparks flying. She countered swiftly, striking at him again and again, but Cray had no trouble fending her off, a smile hovering on his lips at this unexpected treat. He jumped away from her suddenly, tossing aside the brand and grabbing up a shortsword that lay close at hand, then turning back just in time to meet her blow, the weapons clashing loudly. She was lacking somewhat in skill, but was most enthusiastic, and Cray played with her, his eyes alight with appreciation—how on earth had he not perceived she was a girl? What a very interesting encounter this was going to be…

And then, several things happened very quickly.

The door to the smithy burst open and a great number of people began to pour in. Cray, distracted by this, dropped his guard enough that the little Dowager Duchess actually touched him with her weapon, slicing viciously through his shirt and into his upper arm. He gave a shout of pain, and, losing his temper as well as realizing he must make an end, he skillfully reversed the shortsword and swung it at the lady, managing a glancing blow to her forehead. She staggered and dropped, the cutlass clattering against the stone floor, and Jack Sparrow gave a howl of anguish.

But as Jack's cry faded to an echo in the vast stone room, Will was there, cutting through the ropes that bound the pirate's wrists. Jack's eyes met his friend's for a split second, and then Will thrust his sword into Jack's hand.

"Kill him," Will said, his own eyes as hard as Jack had ever seen them.

Jack said nothing, only nodded briefly, his hand gripping the hilt of the sword. Will stepped back as Jack swung to face Cray, and Cray snarled, seeing his death written in the pirate's face.

Will grabbed up another sword, in case Jack should need assistance in eliminating the villain, but in the event he had only to watch in admiration. The Jack Sparrow that fought with cunning and skill to avoid killing or even seriously wounding an opponent was an entirely different man than the one before him now.

Jack let all emotion drain away, except for the cold determination to cause as much pain and injury as possible before destroying his enemy. He dealt Cray cut after cut, slipping under the man's guard time and again, to Cray's apparent astonishment and obvious terror. And the man's fear merely spurred Jack to greater effort. He played with Cray, uncharacteristically callous, until finally, Cray screamed for him to end it, slipping in the blood that ran from a dozen wounds, and dropping his guard as he did so. Jack's sword bit deep into Cray's neck, without hesitation.

Cray fell to the floor. Jack swiftly moved over him and, before the man's eyes glazed over, he plunged his sword into his chest. There was a convulsive shudder, and then Cray was still.

"He's dead," Will said, stating the obvious with great satisfaction, and stepping up to put a hand on Jack's heaving shoulder.

Jack, breathless, stared down at the body, palpably disappointed. Then, awareness returning, he looked up to locate Harry, his heart freezing in suddenly renewed fear.

But she was standing, twenty feet away, by her niece. She was pale but smiling at him, the bloody wound at her hairline not withstanding.

His expression of relief gave way to mounting anger as he strode over to her, and he was pleased to see her smile falter and her eyes widen.

"What in bloody hell were you about, doing that?" He grabbed her shoulders hard, hurting her, and shook her. "I thought you were killed! Can you never do as I tell you?"

As his voice rose, she reddened, fury taking her, too. She tried to push away, not succeeding, then beat her fists against his bare chest, and shouted: "_Oh!_ And I suppose you expected me to just stand there and watch them torture you! _Not bloody likely!_"

There was a sudden silence between them, and then, as if compelled, Jack pulled her against him in a fierce embrace, closing his eyes. After a moment, noticing her muffled squirming, he loosened his grip slightly. She shoved her arms up around his neck, and pulled him down to kiss her. He obliged most willingly.

It was some time before the murmured comments and embarrassed shuffling of the rest of the company penetrated their notice. Jack stopped kissing her, but slid his cheek across hers, wet with tears, and whispered gruffly in her ear, "Abominable wretch."

"Stupid man," she replied, her voice a slightly shaky caress. She drew away a little, and looked at him, and smiled mistily.

He kissed her again, soundly but briefly, and then let her go. They fell apart, facing the company.

Harry sniffed, rubbed her wet cheek with a dirty hand, leaving behind a large smudge, and smiled at everyone. "I was never so happy to see anyone in my life!" she said.

"Aye, and none too soon," added Jack. "Cuttin' it a bit close, there, weren't you?" he said to Will, gripping his hand.

"Sorry. Took us a while to arrange the slave uprising!" Will said, smiling back at him.

"Yes!" Elizabeth agreed. "Aunt, you won't need to bring the Navy into it at all: the island is secured!"

"Secured? All Cray's ruffians are dead?"

"Or captured," said Gibbs. "We can make a tidy sum on those if we sell 'em for indentured slaves, Captain."

"Excellent idea," said Jack. "That's what I like about you, Gibbs: ever an eye to a profit."

"Let us go outside: I wish to see for myself!" said Harry.


	26. Island House

**Chapter 26: _Island House_**

****

It was a beautiful morning outside, the sun shining thinly through the clouds, which were breaking up after a short rainstorm that had come just before dawn. Everything looked very much brighter and cleaner. Harry noticed these things only in passing, however, for when they emerged into the yard nearly every one of the slaves of the plantation were there to meet her. There were nearly sixty of them, ranging in age from small children to one skinny ancient with grizzled grey hair and clear, sad eyes. Many showed signs of neglect or misuse, and there were a number with fresh injuries as well. Most of them carried some type of weapon, weapons that had been recently used.

An amply proportioned woman dressed in the clothing of a housekeeper came forward and fixed Harry with a serious eye. "Lady Fanshawe, I'm Rachel. I've been keeping Island House close to twenty years now. We're very glad of your coming, Lady."

The woman spoke with respect, and Jack had to marvel that Harry, even dressed in boy's clothing, wounded and disheveled, still commanded the attentions due a dowager duchess.

Harry held out her hands, and Rachel took them hesitantly. "I am so very glad to be here," Harry said. "My only regret is that I did not come to you sooner. But now, I shall make everything as right as I can. Will you stay and help me, and teach me?"

Rachel looked down at this rather untidy but still oddly elegant scion of English nobility and what she saw in the intent, beautiful little face brought unaccustomed tears to her eyes. "You're asking me?" she said, her voice rough with emotion and surprise.

"I am," said Harry, simply.

The woman smiled. "Well, I will, Lady," she said. She looked up at her people and raised her voice so that all could hear. "It's long years since any of us have seen the shores of our old country, and some of these young ones don't know any land but this. There's no goin' back for most of us. But this island can be a good place to call home, as most of you likely remember. I'll stay, Lady. And I reckon most of these others will stay too." There was a murmured assent from the group.

Harry released Rachel's hands and addressed the group. "I know you have all been through a terrible time, but I promise I shall do everything I can to make it up to you." But then she frowned suddenly, the happy color fading from her cheeks, and raised a hand to brush it against her aching head.

Jack said, worriedly, "Lady Fanshawe's been hurt, Rachel. We need things to patch her up a bit. Can you show us where?"

Rachel said, "Let's go 'round to the back of the house, out o' sight o' that devil's whippin' post."

"Have it taken down!" exclaimed Harry, wearily.

"Whatever you say, ma'am," grinned Rachel. "Jess! Tom! See to it!" The big woman looked at Jack. "You pick her up and follow me, Captain. We'll go out back where there's some nice grass an' trees, and a sight of the sea."

Jack obeyed, ignoring Harry's rather feeble objections that she was fully capable of walking the short distance, and the whole party from the _Black Pearl_ and many of the St. Claire inhabitants followed Rachel around the house to the back lawn, where comfortable chairs and a table were quickly set up on the veranda. After depositing Harry in a chair, Jack sat down next to her, and Elizabeth sat down on her other side.

Rachel said: "I'll go get some things to clean you up and tend that wound, and I've got just the thing to fix up your headache, too. You just sit a while with the Captain, here, and these others, and I'll be right back." She bustled off into the house, barking orders to several of her people as she went. Quite a few of them went to do her bidding, leaving mostly curious children and a few of their elders lingering on the lawn under the trees.

Gibbs nudged Will and they went after Rachel into the house, followed by Anamaria and Judah. Jack turned to examine Harry's wounded forehead more closely, frowning. Harry let him, closing her eyes and biting her lower lip slightly at the pain.

"Well, it won't need to be stitched, at least," he said finally, "But you'll have a bit of a scar there. It's close to your hairline, so it won't be too noticeable."

"It will add to my rakish air," said Harry, smiling. She leaned her forehead against Jack's hand as he caressed it.

"Headache?" he asked, gently.

Harry nodded, sudden tears coming to her eyes at the sympathy in his voice.

"Now, don't start crying," he said, a little severely. "That'll just make it worse!"

Harry laughed shakily. "I know. I must say, I'm glad it won't need to be stitched: I'm afraid I'd have hysterics!"

She sat back and closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh morning air, hardly able to believe it was all over and had turned out so well. Presently Rachel reemerged from the house bearing a tray of drinks, followed by another woman carrying a basin of water, and still another with bandaging, and a box of medicinal substances, including a bottle of some kind of spirits.

"Rum?" Jack asked, with some enthusiasm.

Rachel put her tray of drinks on the table. "There's rum, and a good many other good things in these drinks: guaranteed to ease a headache. All of you, drink up now!" She handed them each a big mug.

Harry sipped, and then exclaimed, "This is delicious! And there's ice! Where on earth did you get it?"

"Brought clear from New England every winter, an' stored in the icehouse, deep under the barn. Keeps most of the summer, though it costs a small fortune, of course."

"This drink seems to be mostly fruit juice," commented Jack, unhappily. "Are you sure there's rum in it?"

"I think it's delicious!" said Elizabeth.

Harry said nothing, concentrating on drinking down the luscious concoction, and, since she'd had nothing to eat since breakfast the day before, she almost immediately began to feel the medicinal effects of the very considerable quantity of rum in it. She paused and took a deep breath of relief. "This is lovely!" she said, her voice slurring ever so slightly. "I want this for breakfast every day!"

"Looks like she's about ready to have that wound taken care of," Rachel commented, dryly. "Here, Captain." She opened the bottle of rum and added a good dollop to Jack's half empty mug. "You hold her hand, now, and I'll do the doctoring."

The next few minutes tried Harry's fortitude a little, but she bore up well between deep gulps of rum-laced punch and holding fiercely to Jack's hand. Finally Rachel stood back, surveying her handiwork.

"You won't need to keep the bandage on but a day or two: that salve I put on will help it heal real fast."

"Thank you, Rachel," said Harry, woozy with relief and rum. "Could you get me another of those drinks, please?"

"One's likely enough for a little bit of a thing like you," said the woman, with a smile, "but I'll get you another little one if you like. What you need is some real breakfast—and the Captain and Miss Elizabeth, too. And those others, if I can roust them out of the house: they're lookin' for that gold of yours. I told 'em it was in the cellar, but maybe I'll have to show 'em myself. You just set and rest while I do some cookin'."

o-o-o

Harry and Elizabeth had a long nap in a bedroom of the house after breakfast, while the others looked over the plantation, and counted the gold, which had indeed been in the cellar as Rachel had said. There were over six thousand pieces of gold. "And there's still this year's rum ready to go to ship," Judah said.

"If it's anything like what we had this morning, it'll fetch a good price," said Jack. "Good stuff, that!"

"It's just like. St. Claire's known for fine rum."

Will grinned at Jack. "Your luck's certainly improved, Jack! You finally meet your lady love and she actually owns an island where they make quantities of the finest rum!"

"Entirely in keeping with me persona, mate. After all, I am Captain Jack Sparrow." He gave Will a self-satisfied smirk, and winked at him.

o-o-o

Some time later, Harry and Elizabeth emerged onto the veranda again, looking much refreshed.

Elizabeth went off to look for Will, and Jack came to Harry, taking her hands in his. "Better?" he asked, looking her over narrowly.

"Yes, much!" She smiled up at him.

"Excellent. Then sit down here and I'll tell you what we're going to do." He fixed her with a challenging eye.

Harry opened her mouth. Closed it. Then said: "All right, tell me," and went and sat down on her veranda chair again.

He sat beside her and took her hand again, and patted it. "That's my good wee Dowager Duchess," he said approvingly, his eyes twinkling.

She sighed, and assumed an expression of vacuous insipidity.

He grinned. "We're leavin' tonight, after dinner, on the evening tide…" he began.

"So soon!" Harry exclaimed, a little distressed.

Jack put a long finger against her lips, with a warning look. She sighed again, and closed her lips.

He went on. "There's a dozen o' those ruffians of Cray's tied up in the barn, and they'll need to be watched close till we're able to get back here and take 'em to be sold. I don't want 'em on the ship till you're safe in Port Royal, and we don't want 'em residin' in the barn any longer than necessary. Savvy?"

"Aye, Captain." Her eyes smiled.

"The correct answer. Very good. Now, as for the rest. Anamaria's taken a bit of a shine to Judah, I believe, and has agreed to stay to help keep things in order here till ye come back after the wedding."

"How good of her! I shall want to return almost immediately after the wedding, of course."

"Aye, I thought so."

"And Rachel!" Harry said to the housekeeper, who was standing close by, smiling at the interchange between her new mistress and the Captain. "I'll want a list of our most pressing needs. I'll hire a ship and bring back as much as I can."

"We'll help you make up that list before you leave, Lady Fanshawe."

"I wish you will call me Harry," the Dowager Duchess said, with a slight smile.

"Lady Harry, then," said the woman, smiling back.

"Other than that," said Jack, "you've about six thousand in gold…"

"Four then, after your share," Harry pointed out.

"Four then," agreed Jack, "and the whole of this year's shipment of rum to be sold, so ye'll do all right."

"Yes, I will. But you must take some of the rum, too. I know you liked it."

"Oh, yes. Wonderful stuff. Better without all that juice in it, of course," he added, cocking an eyebrow at Rachel, who chuckled richly.

o-o-o

Jack had sent some of the crew back to the Black Pearl so that the ship could be brought round to the south bay, which lay just beyond the white sand beach below Island House. When it arrived, a longboat came out from it bearing Cotton and his parrot, and Michael Owens. The boy was wearing some of Anamaria's clothing, which fit him even less well than his own things, which Harry still wore. The Dowager Duchess ran up to him as he came ashore and, to his astonishment, knelt on one knee before him.

"Owens, my dear, can you ever forgive me? I'm so sorry to have made you a victim of my dreadful temper!"

Owens stared down at her, flushing uncomfortably. "Lady, I…you don't have to ask! You could've 'ad my clothes an' welcome: they fit you better'n me, anyway. It's just…"

"What?" she prompted gently as he hesitated.

"I was just…a bit worried was all. About you an' Miss Swann. And the Captain." He looked up at Jack, who was standing behind the Dowager Duchess. Jack winked at Owens, and the boy gave a slow smile.

Harry glanced back at Jack, then looked at Owens again. "Yes, well, you had reason to be worried. But it all came right in the end, thank God and the Angels." She took his thin hand in hers. "There's going to be a lovely dinner set out soon, with music and dancing, too, from what I understand. I daresay we shall all enjoy it excessively. Would you like to come meet some of the folk here?"

Owens mulled this over, a crease between his brows. "Can I stay with you and the Captain, though?"

She laughed, and stood up, but only to hug him, to his rather evident embarrassment.

"Of course you can, love. As long as you like," said Harry, and kissed his cheek.

Then she took his hand again, and Jack's, and they walked with her up the sloping path to her house.


	27. Partings

**Chapter 27: _Partings_**

****

It was full dark when the Captain, crew and passengers of the _Black Pearl_ were ready to make weigh again, timing their departure to take advantage of the ebbing tide.

Harry had asked Anamaria and Judah to see to the dismantling and cleaning of the portions of the smithy that Cray had built for his particular uses, and to the care of the twelve prisoners, Cray's former henchmen. She and Rachel had found pen and paper in the house and had made out a long list of items that needed to be imported to the island, and Harry told her to start a new list while she was gone, as things came to light in the cleaning and rebuilding of the plantation workers' housing.

"I wish to free all the slaves here," Harry said, "and if they wish to be returned to Africa, to their villages, I'll arrange it. But I do hope most will stay."

"Oh, I think they might, most of 'em," replied Rachel, fixing a fond eye on the Dowager Duchess. "Time will tell, though."

o-o-o

Two chests of gold had been taken aboard the ship, one somewhat lighter than the other.

"And which is mine?" asked Jack, eyeing her narrowly, a smile tugging at his lips.

"The lighter one, of course," said Harry, airily. "I've changed my mind about paying you back for the Bride's Auction. I'll just be 'your girl', instead, eh?"

"Is that right?" said Jack. "Well, we'll have to discuss that presently, love. Savvy?"

Harry only grinned.

o-o-o

Finally, goodbyes having been said and promises of quick returns made, all were back on board the _Black Pearl_. The moon, only one evening off the full, shone down golden as Harry, Elizabeth and Will joined some of the crew in waving goodbye to those left on the beach before Island House, as the ship made its way out of the bay, Jack's hand on the helm. Once out of sight of the bay, however, Jack gave the wheel to Cotton and joined his friends.

"Ah, thank God for the open sea," Jack said breathing deeply, savoring the moment. Then he looked at Harry, standing beside him. She smiled up at him, but her smile began to slip as his expression changed. "Gibbs," he said to his henchman, who stood close at hand, "you have the command. Lady Fanshawe and I have some…ah…unfinished business to take care of in my cabin. And don't disturb us unless I call, savvy?"

He had taken Harry's hand in a firm grasp and, ignoring her slight resistance, pulled her over to the companionway steps. He stepped down onto the first one, but turned and said, looking at Harry, "Oh, and Will, Gibbs? Hide all the knives, will you please?"

"But…Jack!" Harry protested as she was pulled out of sight down the steps. "Jack! Wait! Jack!"

Her protests and their footsteps faded down the passageway, and then the others heard the door of the Captain's Cabin close with a decided bang. Elizabeth looked at Will, a little alarmed. "You don't think…" she began hesitantly.

"No, I don't," said Will.

Gibbs agreed. "Don't you worry, Miss Elizabeth. The Captain wouldn't hurt a hair on her pretty head. Or any other bit of her, either. More's the pity," he added, with a speaking look at the pair.

o-o-o

"It's the _Dauntless_, Gibbs," said Will to the first mate, a bit grimly, his eye to the spyglass.

He lowered it, and he and Gibbs stared out at the ship, which appeared so deceptively small at such a distance. That Norrington was looking for the _Black Pearl_ was almost certain, but, in the ordinary course of things, the bigger ship could not catch them up. Unless they let it.

"We'd better tell the Captain," Gibbs commented, making no move to do so.

Will, too, considered this in silence. Finally he said: "We'll send Owens."

"Good notion," Gibbs agreed. He turned and called loudly, "Owens! Report!"

Owens, still as pitiful-looking a cabin boy as ever sailed, scurried over. "Aye, Mr. Gibbs?"

"Owens, ye'll go down to his cabin and inform the Captain that the _Dauntless_ has been sighted on the horizon."

Owens goggled at him. "The…the Captain? But he said he didn't want to be disturbed unless he called, sir."

"I know what he said. And haven't we done just that these two days past?"

Indeed, only once had the door of the Captain's Cabin opened since the evening before last when they'd set sail. Yesterday morning, Gibbs had caught his name being called sharply, and, having expected something of this nature, he'd gone quickly down the steps of the companionway, stopping at their foot to grin at Jack, whose face peered at him from around the door. "Would ye be wantin' somethin' then, Captain?"

"Breakfast. Tell cook to leave a tray by the door, aye? And lunch, and dinner, later."

"Aye, I'll do that, but…"

"Thanks!"

The door was closed and the bolt on the inside set.

Gibbs had raised his shaggy brows. Ah. Like that, is it?

"The thing is," Gibbs went on to Owens, "this is something he'll be wantin' to know. Now you get down there and tell 'im." When the boy still hesitated, Gibbs added, "Go on lad—he won't eat you."

Owens looked unconvinced, but turned away, stiffening his shoulders as he crossed the deck. Gibbs and Will watched with some sympathy as he disappeared down the companionway.

Owens approached the Captain's cabin door on cat feet and, steeling himself, knocked very softly. He waited, his heart thumping, for what seemed a very long time. Then, just as he was thinking of trying once more, the door was jerked open slightly and the Captain's rather bleary eye peered out. It took him a half-second to lower his gaze enough to spot the lad, who peered up at him nervously. The brow above the eye lifted slightly.

"Owens. What is it, lad?"

"B-beggin' the Captain's pardon the _Dauntless_ is on the horizon and Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Turner thought you'd like to know," blurted Owens, taking his fence in a rush. "Beggin' your pardon, " he added, again.

"It is, is it?" Jack said slowly. He seemed to frown, though Owens couldn't be sure, and then he sighed. "All right. Tell them to let her come up slowly, say by midday."

"Aye, Captain!" Owens squeaked, saluting, and turned to escape.

"Owens!"

Owens froze, then turned back.

"Tell 'em late midday," Jack said.

o-o-o

The Captain was on deck with his crew, Will, and Elizabeth when the _Dauntless_ came alongside late in the afternoon. Norrington boarded with a small compliment of the King's finest.

"Commodore. We meet again," Jack said smiling, but wary.

"Yes," Norrington said, looking down his nose at the pirate. He turned to Elizabeth. "Miss Swann…Elizabeth: is all well with you?"

"Perfectly," Elizabeth assured him. "We have had an exciting adventure and have done some excellent work, with the aid of Captain Sparrow and his crew."

Norrington looked skeptical, but did not dispute her word. "It is my understanding that the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham is also on this vessel."

"Indeed I am, Norrington," came a voice.

They all turned and watched appreciatively as Harry emerged from the companionway. She was dressed in the finest of her Spanish gowns, the high-necked gold brocade, her dark hair, carefully done up in the elaborate style she favored, shining like silk. She smiled at Jack as he came over to help her onto the deck, and colored a little.

"My lady," he murmured, and lifted her hand to his lips. Then he straightened and studied her face for a moment, a warm look in his eyes.

"Lady Fanshawe!" said Norrington, patent disapproval in his tone.

Jack let her go, and moved a little away from the group.

"Auntie!" exclaimed Elizabeth, coming over to her and taking her hands, "I…are you…all right?" she asked in a low voice, trying to conceal the anxiety under which she had been laboring for the last two days.

Lady Henrietta smiled and said, "Never better, my dear, I assure you!" She gave Elizabeth's hands a little squeeze to emphasize the sincerity of the sentiment. Then she looked around at the assembled company, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, and took in the beauty of the scene, the tidy ships, the varying blues of ocean and sky, the slight cooling breeze and golden, westering sun. "What a lovely day it is! Commodore Norrington! It's been almost twelve years now, hasn't it? Twelve years March 15th, I believe."

Norrington blinked, momentarily stunned, then noticed Jack eying him curiously and collected himself. "Yes. Your memory does you credit, Lady Fanshawe," he managed, stiffly.

"My memory is always excellent," she agreed, smiling. "I must congratulate you on your elevation to the rank of Commodore—this uniform certainly becomes you more than the last one in which I saw you." She smiled serenely at his very evident consternation. "It is so good of you to bring the Dauntless and her crew to take the three of us back to Port Royal," she continued. "We have imposed on Captain Sparrow's hospitality long enough, I vow."

Norrington straightened and said severely, "Lady Fanshawe, Captain Sparrow…"

She cut him off. "We owe such a great debt to the Captain. You will excuse me, for a moment, while I take my leave of him."

She turned away from Norrington and went over to Jack. As she approached him, her smile faded a little. He held out his hands as she approached, and she took them in hers. Feeling tears behind her eyes, she looked up at him and said, in a husky voice, "Don't forget me!"

He gave a bark of genuinely astonished laughter, and replied, "Not bloody likely!"

She grinned at that, and, tears forgotten, tossed decorous behavior to the winds and threw her arms around him and kissed him once more. Jack responded with gratifying alacrity, but he was unable to resist glancing up at Norrington in the midst of it, just to see the look of outrage on the Commodore's face.

Jack ended the kiss before Norrington was goaded into action, pushed her a little away, but set his hands on her arms in a warm, firm clasp. "I'll come to you when you get back to St. Claire," he assured her.

"That's like to be at least a month!" she complained. "I do wish you were coming to the wedding!"

He gave a snort of amusement. "I imagine Norrington would have something to say about that! Provided he don't try to hang me out of hand."

"Norrington!" exclaimed Harry. "Oh, but you need not be quite so concerned about him, any more!" She smiled at his puzzled look, and turned. "Commodore!" she called. "Please join us for a moment!"

The tall officer approached the pair, stiff with disapproval, but Jack took note of the slightly wary look on his face. "Your ladyship?" Norrington inquired, very formal.

"Commodore," said Lady Henrietta, in brisk tones, "It has been brought to my attention that you are considered the…er…Scourge of Piracy in these waters, am I correct?"

"I have endeavored to carry out my appointed duties with efficiency and dedication, my lady," he replied, eyeing Jack speculatively.

"I am sure of it, Commodore," she said kindly. "However, although I am loathe to throw your…youthful indiscretions, shall we say?…in your face, I must inform you that if you ever again harass, or cause to be harassed, Captain Sparrow and his crew, I will be forced to inform Admiral Greenway, the Naval Office, and your mother of the events which transpired on March 15th, twelve years ago. Do I make myself clear?" The Commodore stared at her, stunned. "Excellent!" she smiled. She turned to Jack, twinkling at his look of bemused admiration. "Captain Sparrow, it has been a great pleasure. I very much look forward to our next meeting!"

"As do I, ma'am," said Jack , smiling back at her. He erased the smile after she turned away, looking blandly up at Norrington, who stared after the departing Dowager Duchess, still speechless.

"Elizabeth! Will!" said Lady Henrietta. "Come my loves! Your nuptials await!" She added with an ironic little smile, "How happy your father will be to see me!"

"Indeed he will, Aunt!" Elizabeth assured her warmly.

The three moved off toward the gangplank that had been set between the ships, but stopped again when Norrington finally regained his voice.

"But…but Lady Fanshawe!" The man was nearly sputtering. The three turned back to him, and Lady Henrietta cocked an enquiring brow. Norrington looked in growing outrage from the Dowager Duchess to Sparrow and back again. "Lady Fanshawe, he…he's a _pirate!_"

Lady Harry smiled warmly at Jack. "Yes, indeed!" she agreed, adding in a voice pregnant with meaning, "He's _my_ pirate!"

**_- - Finis - - _**


End file.
